Case Phenomenal
by Andaliri
Summary: Detective Sora Takenouchi is the finest investigator in Odaiba with the best success record. But when she is assigned to end a notorious group, supernatural events begin to happen. What will happen to her record and who the hell is that man???
1. It Begins One Night

************

Chapter 1

************

She was Sora. Officially, Detective Sora Takenouchi of the 4th Precinct of Odaiba. She may have looked like a sweet woman with her large scarlet eyes and her pretty cherry hair, but Detective Takenouchi was a force to be reckoned with, especially when anger stood by her side.

And right now, she was mad as hell.

"What do you mean they've managed to get out?" the young full-fledged detective roared into the communicator. "I specifically demanded for all the exits to be blocked! How could you let them slip away??"

"Uh…well," came the apologetic reply of one of the less accomplished officers on the other end of the com. "It turns out that there was another hidden way out of the building that we didn't have intelligence on."

"Damn right!" she yelled, clenching the handle of her gun and gesticulating furiously. "What kind of a perimeter sweep do you people do? Have they got a getaway car? You'd better have an idea on where they went."

"Y-yes Detective Takenouchi," the subordinate replied, probably wondering where the cheerful woman he had met at work today had gone. "The crooks are in a white Sedan, heading toward the highway."

"Thank you," she said curtly and snapped the com off. She climbed into her nondescript Audi. The only other way out of the bank was through the front gate. She revved up the engine and nodded to the other police officers stationed by the scene. "Clean things up here. Make sure that all those bankers get suitably questioned and give HQ an exact account of things. I'm going after them."

"Won't you need some backup?" Officer Ayame asked her.

Sora nodded. "We'll be at the end of highway D-12, most likely heading north. Tell them to look for a white Sedan."

Ayame's eyes narrowed. "Detective, do you think that this car could be the stolen Sedan of that funny bald man last week?"

Sora shrugged. "It'll be something to look out for. Take care here. The fun isn't over yet."

The younger woman looked at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well," the detective drawled, "Sedans can't fit fourteen bank robbers, no matter how thin they all may be."

And with that, she peeled off, directing her car toward the highway. She soon caught sight of the Sedan. It was, after al, the only other car on the road. Highway D-12 was scarcely traversed, especially at night, because it led to the ancient warehouses by the pier.

Sora immediately slowed her velocity when she caught sight of her prey's potentially stolen transportation. She was certain that they knew they were being followed, but they couldn't be certain that her car was a police car.

After all, her car didn't have those telltale sirens and flashing lights.

They moved quickly, surpassing the regular speed limit by more than a dozen kilometers per hour and Sora more or less kept up with them. She supposed they decided to ignore her, since no gunshots came whizzing into her car's windshield. She felt no need to engage with them either, for at the moment, she just wanted to see where they were heading with the money. There were plenty signs that these bank robbers were part of the Sayonara gang., a notorious criminal organization skilled in drug dealing, money laundering, and all other sorts of illegal practices.

Besides, car chases were always so messy and burned gas too quickly. Oil prices were rising and Sora's allowance didn't agree with wanton spending.

Sora turned on her communicator. "This is Takenouchi to HQ. I'm tailing the crooks on D-12, heading toward the dock graveyard. There's a possibility that these lackeys may be Sayonara."

"No car chase, boss?" came the laughing voice of her younger colleague, the Chief of the Juvenile Departments, Hikari Kamiya.

"Not tonight, Kari," Sora replied. "My gas expenses have been going through the roof."

"It's always something, isn't it?" Kari remarked good-naturedly. "Either your car just got repainted or the road is too rough and bumpy for your wheels…you love that car of yours too much, Sora."

"It's my best friend in these situations."

"Aside from your gun, of course," she pointed out.

"Oh, yes, definitely."

"Will you cut out with all the chatter?" another voice came out on the speaker. It was Hikari's brother, Taichi, or, as he preferred to be called, Tai. "Girls," he muttered. "Always so talkative."

"Keep in mind that I can still hear you, Kamiya." Sora reminded him. "I'm a girl, too."

"You don't act like one," he retorted. "I've seen the way you guzzle your beer—"

"Excuse me, brother!" Kari exclaimed. "Sora is currently on the tail of a couple of bank robbers and potential Sayonara gang members!"

"Don't forget car nappers," Sora put in. "The plate number of their white Sedan matches the plate number of the bald man's stolen car exactly. He'll be glad to know what a special role his car played in wasting my gasoline."

"Is that all you care about, Sora?" Tai grumbled. "That car of yours?"

"And my gun," she interjected.

"And your gun."

Kari went on. "So Sora's on the trail of a couple of bank robbers who are also car nappers and possible members of the Sayonara gang. Shouldn't we get back to business now?"

"Sure," Tai answered, but in a lower voice, he muttered, "Hypocrite."

Kari shot back, "Look who's talking!"

Sora rolled her eyes. Chief Taichi and Hikari Kamiya were experts on the field, but there were too many times when they resembled two whiny little brats arguing over the last cookie in the jar.

…

They still did that, only with donuts during lunch breaks.

She then heard another voice in the background. "Give me that…Hello, Detective Takenouchi? This is me, Ken."

"Thank God I'm talking to you, Inspector," Sora declared. "Finally. Someone with sense!"

"The Kamiyas are a little…enthusiastic at times, aren't they?"  the younger detective said mildly. Inspector Ken Ichijouji was in the same field as Sora was, although he was her superior, in a way. Ken was a military genius and extremely intellectual, so he was the perfect inspector.

Ken laughed then got back down to business. "Sora, I've sent some squads out for you. They'll get there later than you will, though, so I suggest that you lay low once you see where their destination is."

Sora, instead of agreeing, said, "You got their descriptions from the scene a while ago from the scene, Ken. Have you pinned their ID's?"

"Well," Ken replied slowly, noting her silence on his request. "We managed to pinpoint most of their identities—"

"The one with black hair seemed to be their leader on this operation," she added.

"I am very well aware of that fact, Sora," he answered, sounding slightly irritated. "But thank you for confirming it. He appears to be the only one who shows leadership backbone. They indeed are all part of the Sayonara gang."

"The 'Good-bye Gang'," she quipped, steering her car a little to the left. "How poetic."

"If we are lucky, you'll be heading straight into their headquarters," the normally stoic Inspector's voice seemed unnaturally excited.

Sora cocked her head. "I don't know how that could be lucky, but it sure will be pretty interesting."

"How so?"

Sora grinned. "I've never taken out an entire warehouse of gang members before."

He chuckled. "Would it be pointless to try to talk you into waiting until your backup arrives at the docks?"

"Go ahead and ask, anyway, if it makes you feel better," she said lightly. "Just don't expect anything in return."

"You're in a good mood tonight," he observed.

Sora laughed happily. "I love a good ambush. Plus, I got the chance to bite off an incompetent's head back there when they let the criminals slip past us, so you can say that I'm perfectly jolly tonight. I may even consider having joining Tai in his silly belching contests later, if you'd believe me."

"I'll be there to watch our city's air pollution deteriorate even more with you," Ken promised. He then paused. "Have you arrived at the docks yet?"

Sora squinted through the windshield. It was dark outside but she could make out the dim figures of the structures in the distance. She saw a glimmer of light far away, too. The water of the pier, perhaps? "I'll be there soon. That backup had better be here or else they won't get to have any fun." She stopped. "I won't be too cross if you let me hog all of it, though," she said hopefully.

Ken laughed. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Sora, but they've already set out to take your fun."

"Spoilsport."

"Life's like that," he said easily. "You win some, you lose some. Hopefully, you win more."

"Gotcha." She grinned. "I guess I'm not too mad, Ken. I don't have enough pairs of handcuffs on me to cover an entire warehouse. I guess those reinforcements will be good for something, for once."

"Be careful, Detective," Ken told her more seriously. "The Sayonara gang is pretty infamous throughout Odaiba. Most of the members are just muscle but there are also the masterminds of their operations. There aren't many of them, but they are reputed to be skilled fighters and tacticians."

"Really?" Sora smiled slightly. "That's good, I suppose. I won't be _too_ bored, then. I have a reputation of my own, don't you remember? We'll just have to see whose is more authentic."

Detective Sora Takenouchi was indeed quite acknowledged in many law departments as a highly efficient detective. She never lost a case and always seemed to see directly into the truth that it seemed uncanny. Her intelligence and analytical senses were highly advanced and she was quite prized as an agent to be working on a case with.

"This is no game, Detective Takenouchi," Ken said sternly. "But in any case, you'd better win. Good luck, Sora."

"Thanks." Sora grinned, feeling for her gun. She had arrived at the warehouses.

She felt a grim smile on her lips. "Detective Takenouchi, over and out."

************


	2. Out of the Ordinary

************

"Great work with the job last night, Sor!"

Sora glanced up to see Kari pop into her office, followed by her brother and the Chief of Intelligence, Koushiro Izumi, or more commonly and easily known as 'Izzy'.

"Sora does it again!" Tai whooped. "You ruled that joint!"

"It wasn't very wise of you to go in by yourself, though," Izzy remarked disapprovingly. "Many things could have gone wrong last night and you would not have had back up to…" He paused, looking blank. "…To back you up."

Tai laughed heartily. "I love it when brains like him get plugged up. It makes such a funny sound." Izzy glared at him.

Sora quipped cheerfully, "Luckily for me, nothing went wrong."

"You seem to have an incredibly handy sense of the probability then," the red-haired computer genius sniffed. "May it continue to aid you on your little rendezvous with the Sayonara gang."

Sora grinned at him. Although Izzy always appeared haughty to people who didn't know him, she knew him better than that. The man was proud for her. They didn't look it, but they were very close friends.

"Ignore the nerd, Sor!" Tai piped up. "Congratulations. Another one for the record, eh?"

Sora smiled. "Thank you. Now will all of you _please give me some peace? There are still some things I have to attend to." She waved a disgruntled hand toward a stack of paperwork._

"Tch," Kari scoffed. "You never do your paperwork, Sora. You just toss them into the fire."

Izzy looked shocked. "Is that why you were so insistent on having a fireplace installed into your office?"

Sora shrugged. "I have my little whims. So if you won't believe that I'll be doing my paperwork, then give me time to bask in the rich afterglow of my latest triumph over criminal evil. Alone, of course. I can't have you guys soaking up my glory." She paused then added, "By the way, if you see Inspector Ichijouji, tell him I'm busy doing paperwork."

Izzy began spluttering indignant phrases. Kari laughed, grinning at Sora. "Sneak."

"Sora," Tai protested. "Let us bask, too. We don't get as much glory as you do!"

"Get moving, folks!" she announced and leaned back in her seat, propping her feet unto her desk. "I feel the rays pouring in. Too much is dangerous for inexperienced peasants like you. You might get bravado cancer."

"Detective, you must know that there is no such thing as bravado cancer." Izzy, of course.

Tai threw a folder at Sora while Kari snatched up one of the teddy bears Sora kept around her desk, ready to pitch the fluffy little thing at the Detective. Sora dodged both projectiles and glared at them. "In my own office," she muttered darkly. "Of all the—"

They grinned at her. And she, unable to help herself, grinned back.

As soon as the trio had left her office, Sora let the smile slide from her face as her expression took up a pensive look. She sat herself properly and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples.

She needed to think. She then let her thoughts return to the night before during the gang raid at the dock warehouse…

Who was he?

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *                *              *              

She had very unwillingly left her car behind in the shadows of the highway area once she knew which building the thieves had entered. The squad would know where to go. She made sure of that.

She walked down through the lanes, checking her watch. It would still be some time before her expected backup would arrive—provided they wouldn't make any random stops for donuts, of course.

Sora paused. It would probably a little more time before they could get here, then. The officers of Odaiba had a strange fascination for donuts with the mystical holes in the center…

At the moment Sora thought no more of donuts and mystical centers, feeling her blood coursing adrenaline through her veins at the prospect of a raid. Swiftly, she made her way to the warehouse number 37. Her prey's hideout, apparently.

Sora smiled, her hand coming to a rest on the hilt of her gun. She was as fond of her gun as she was of her car, although her gun was seldom required in her dealings with the corrupt and desperate. She usually managed things diplomatically or intellectually and without much projectile action, much to her disappointment.

It wasn't that she enjoyed blood and guts; no, Sora hated the thought of wasting good bullets. It was just that she would never get the chance to try out several shooting tricks she had learned over the past few years.

She looked around. Quite obviously, she couldn't enter the warehouse through the front gate. That would cause some excitement, but it would also mess up any chance of sneaking, and Sora loved to sneak, for some reason.

There! She saw some cargo boxes on the side of the structure, forming an impromptu staircase to the warehouse roof.

She narrowed her eyes. _'Now isn't this__ rather convenient?' She scowled. Maybe she was being overly suspicious, but she didn't ever trust the easy ways in and out of a situation. Her frown deepened. There was no other way, unless she decided to come in by the main entrance, guns blazing._

The idea actually had some appeal to her, but she brushed it aside, thinking of what Inspector Ichijouji's reaction would be if she decided to do so.

She walked over and suddenly sprang up, silently landing on the first crate briefly before moving on to the next. When Sora reached the final crate before emerging onto the rooftop, she climbed up and warily glanced around.

There on the rooftop was a solitary set of descending stairs, entering the building. Around it were the exhaust pipes and the air vent opening. She grinned and swung herself up when she caught sight of the air vent.

Going down the staircase would be risky; she would probably encounter trigger-happy gang lackeys with minds devoid of thought going that direction. So she had to go the other way.

She pocketed her gun, thinking about the mess crawling around in air vents would do to her jacket. Air vents were never kept squeaky clean, especially in dumps like this.

Sora frowned. She liked her jacket. Maybe she could go back to her car to—

_BANG! There was a shrill scream coming from below. It was high-pitched and young—_

Sora started in surprise. She suddenly recalled the number of missing children reports and ran the list of abducted little girls in her mind as she hurriedly discarded the idea of returning to her car. Her jacket would just have to go into the wash for the next few months.

_'The sacrifices I make for this job…'_

She walked over to the air vent, taking out a little flashlight. With it, she managed to detect the screws which had fastened the screen down onto the mouth of the air vent.

_'It's times like these I'm glad Tai forces me to bring these little odds and ends whenever I'm on the field…'_

Fishing around her jacket pocket, she produced a little case of handyman tools. After examining the screws, she took out an appropriate screwdriver and got to work unfastening the screen.

Soon enough, the screen clattered to the floor, making very little noise, much to Sora's relief. She was getting rusty, forgetting to muffle all possible sources of noise. She peered into the air vent and saw only darkness.

She sighed. Why were these criminal places always so dark and grimy? For once, she wanted to see a headquarters with pink wallpaper and neat rows of flowers.

On second thought, maybe not. Pink wallpaper??

Sora exhaled again and carefully climbed into the vent, wincing at the oily feel of the obviously unkempt air vent tunnels. Haltingly and very primly, the detective began to crawl.

The air vents were large enough for her to watch her step and make little noise whenever she moved, but they were small enough that when she _did make sounds, she wouldn't be heard._

Much.

At last, she saw a patch of light and reached a grate screwed onto the wall. Peering through the grid, she saw no one. Just the staircase from the rooftop.

She grinned and unscrewed the slimy grate—her grin slid off rather quickly at this point. Placing the dirty grate behind her, she lowered herself down, landing easily on her feet.

"You could have easily went down the stairs, but I guess you policemen enjoy adding unnecessary complications."

Sora froze. She swore that she hadn't seen anyone in the room when she looked in through the grate. Well, the screen was dirty enough to obscure several things from her sight, but she doubted that it could hide a human in the small patches of grime she had to see through.

She straightened and turned around.

It was a man with noble features who looked around her age. He was sitting on a chair by the staircase. In the dim light, his spiky hair seemed colorless but his blue eyes were very visible, for some reason.

He looked startled for a moment, and then his expression settled into a slightly amused one. "Well, policewoman, in this case."

She felt for her gun. "Who are you?"

"Not so loud, Lady," he said, the corner of his mouth turning up. "The walls aren't completely stable and one can easily eavesdrop through crumbled mortar."

"What do you want?" she demanded, although in a harsh low voice.

He shrugged. Something suddenly caught Sora's eyes as she warily turned her gaze from the mysterious man and traveled the room to land on a heap of bodies piled up on the floor next to an equally large mound of guns, knives and other weapons the men must have carried before they were put out of commission.

"Did you…?"

The man chuckled softly, grinning slightly. "No, no. I merely knocked them out for the meantime. They would disturb me very greatly."

"What do you want?" Sora repeated, growing angrier. What was his deal? She tightened her grip on her pistol.

She had recognized the face of one of the bank robbers among the pile of bodies. They were Sayonara gang members. But, unless he wasn't a part of the mob, why would he harm his own? And if he wasn't part of the Sayonara ring, what on earth was he doing here?

He was dangerous, she thought irritably. Who could knock out that many armed people and, as far as she could see, sustain no visible injury? He must have done it very quickly, she concluded. At the first sign of trouble, the members must have gone to sound the alarm of an intruder.

He smiled thinly. "Didn't you ask me this question a while ago? The authority, these days…"

Sora suddenly brought out her gun and held it ready, aiming it towards him. "I asked you again because you didn't seem to hear my question." She flashed him a smirk. "I'm giving you the benefit of a doubt, by the way. Now talk."

"About what, Detective?"

She blanched for a moment then narrowed her eyes, glaring balefully at him. How did he know her rank? "It's obvious that you're not one of the Sayonara," she said, ignoring his question. "Why did you attack them and why were you waiting for me?"

He grinned at her, showing perfectly aligned teeth. "I advise you not to infiltrate their main offices in this building by going through that door." He pointed to the single door leading further into the warehouse. Sora scowled, noting that he did not answer any of her questions.

"Do you think you can stop me?" the detective challenged. She knew enough martial arts to fend herself off. Besides, she had taken yoga before and made it a point to learn where the sensitive spots of the body were.

He laughed after sending a brief glance toward the pile of unconscious bodies. "I probably could, but it is not my intention to do so—at least for tonight. I'm telling you to go on and take the air vents. The best way to win this entire partial operation is to do it by rousing as little commotion as possible, therefore, it is not wise to go that way, on account of the many obstacles you will encounter."

She stared at him. Some of the moonlight from the outside filtered into the room, illuminating his hair and making it seem more shiny yet pale and translucent and lit up his face. He was fair and very attractive. His sapphire eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight. 

"Why are you helping me?" she demanded. "What's your deal?"

He gave her another smile, standing up from the chair. She tensed and watched suspiciously as he crossed into a patch of blue moonlight, moving in front of the exit stairs. "You'd better go now, Detective. The Sayonaras haven't been too gentle with the poor girl." He turned his back on her and walked up the stairs.

She frowned and ran after him, feeling strangely tingly. "So there is a girl there?" She emerged out on the roof.

He was gone.

The tingling faded and she ran to the railing at the edge of the building, looking down. Nothing.

Sora let out an obscene curse and stalked back inside. Should he follow his warning? Could she trust the shadowy blue-eyed man? She scowled and realized that she had no other choice. He was probably simply stating the obvious. Who on earth would rush into the narrow corridors of an old warehouse full of gangsters?

She easily maneuvered herself back into the ventilation systems and resumed her crawling, the steady stream of curses coming from her mouth as she thought of the mess her jacket must have looked like.

It wasn't difficult for her to find her way around the warehouse. There were only two ways, usually—backward and forward. Sometimes, a left or a right. She peeked out of several grates and indeed, she saw many gang members who seemed to be on guard patrolling the hallways.

So the mysterious fellow was telling the truth.

Sora narrowed her eyes. Just what she needed. Another complication to add to the mountain of technicalities she recognized. Who _was that man and why did he help her out? _

She went on and soon encountered a ventilation tunnel that opened up into the biggest part of the warehouse—where the goods newly arrived from the docks would usually be stored before sending them off into the grocery stores if this wasn't the headquarters of an infamous band of criminals. 

She stole a look through the grate and saw many men in the enormous room. There was much noise going on here, so Sora figured that she wouldn't be heard if she unscrewed the rusty grate, unless she planned to let it slip five feet down to the floor, though it was certain that Sora was no butterfinger.

She wiped her fingers carefully, just in case.

Sora dropped down silently, landing behind some boxes stacked near the wall. She crept to the side and peered over the edge. She saw a lot of men and an occasional woman or two milling around. Some were counting the newly stolen money while others were engaged in muttered conversations, polishing their guns or playing poker or some other game which frequently placed their money in much danger.

She frowned. They were playing a game considered as illegal gambling.

But they weren't the people she was looking for. As much as she wanted to barge in and arrest them for practicing illegal gambling, she had pinpoint several people first. She craned her neck, attempting to see past the gambling cronies to the other end of the room.

There. 

Sitting on a black plastic chair was a little girl surrounded by burly-looking gang members. She was blindfolded, but for some reason, Sora was able to see the tears that had stained the not-too-clean cloth that was tied across her eyes. Sora wondered how she was able to discern the barely visible tear tracks, as she was in the extreme opposite side of the room. Her hair seemed to hold some faded luster—she had been here for some time, Sora guessed.

The suspicions she had come up with upon climbing into the ventilation systems were now confirmed. Judging by the girl's features, Sora had found the missing Hidenaki girl. She had been lost for three weeks. The girl's parents had practically taken up living in the police station, hoping that someone would find their daughter. They never would have guessed that the small girl had been captured by the notorious Sayonara gang.

But why was she kidnapped in the first place? Toki Hidenaki's parents weren't rich. They weren't even into business—they merely ran a little shrine near the center of town.

The blindfolded captive turned her gaze in Sora's direction. Her lips remained in their solemn line but she made the tiniest of nods, acknowledging her. She knew Sora was there!

Sora quickly ducked back behind the crates. How did the blindfolded girl pinpoint her location? For that matter, how did the girl know that Sora was even there? Her frown deepened. This certainly was no ordinary girl. Her thoughts fled back to the pale-haired stranger she had met earlier. He also unnerved her.

She narrowed her eyes in frustration. Sora wasn't the one who fantasized about strange phenomena. Kari was. She _so didn't need this right now._

Or ever.

Sora forced her thoughts to return to their original skeptical track. What was she thinking, anyway? The kid's blindfold was probably transparent enough for her to see through it._ 'Then why bother blindfolding her in the first place? Besides, you still don't know how she knew you were crouching behind these crates getting your pants dirty,' whispered the annoyingly deprecating voice in her head. __'And what about that blue-eyed man from upstairs, hmm, Detective?'___

She scowled, pointedly ignoring the logic in her mind.

'_Hmph,' sniffed her mind. '__You're just jealous that I can be more open-minded than you can, you pathetic steel trap, you.'_

Sora ignored that, too. She took another look at the girl, noticing something she hadn't before. Toki's face was slightly bruised. A thin, barely visible line of blood streaked her hairline and there were rough marks on her arms and legs.

Sora's teeth clenched angrily. How dare they abuse such a young girl? She groped for her gun and slowly brought it out, paying no attention to the frantic protests of her inner voice.

'_NO! NO! You stupid blockhead!!' it yelled, along with several other expletives Sora decided not to notice. She observed the scene, sizing up the situation. There were seven men lazily surrounding the girl. Two of them looked incapacitated with drink while the rest lazed around, attempting to achieve their two companions' drunken state, it seemed._

She ran along between the large crates and the wall to get closer to them and paused behind a vault. She raised her gun—

A man suddenly burst into the room, causing many of the people to whip out their guns and point them toward the poor underling. Sora paled slightly. She had misjudged the members of the Sayonara gang. They all looked so inattentive. How could they have brought out their guns so fast?

"It's me, all right?" the underling snapped. "Got something I know you'd wanna hear, Boss. Some dude just told me that there are cops somewhere in this building! I think they're snooping around."

"WHAT?" a man had stood up from behind a wooden table. There was nothing on his table but an admirable magnum .75. Sora assumed that he was the boss, since he had the largest gun. "Where is this informant of yours? Can he be trusted?" The man's baleful eyes burned into the underling's suddenly nervous ones. "I know how easily you are bribed, Watta."

The man seemed to lose all his color at once.

Sora narrowed her eyes. She was certain that this informant of poor Watta's was the same one who had told her how to avoid the people in the halls. He ratted her out! So whose side was he on? He _had helped her out, but what of this sudden change? Why did he tell them that she was here after helping her into the main center of the warehouse?_

Well, he didn't exactly tell them that _she was here. He had said that there was an entire squad of cops snooping around, not just one confused and extremely angry detective._

_'When I'd get my hands on him...'_

"I don't know, Boss!" the man squeaked. "I was outside takin' a smoke when he popped out from outta nowhere! I lost my smoke somewhere in that stinky sewer and when I fired my gun at him 'coz I was pissed off, he sidestepped my bullet! He broke my gun and said that there were cops somewhere in the HQ, boss! I dunno, but there's sumthing strange 'bout that weird man."

The boss growled angrily, "You weren't alert enough, Watta."

Sora suddenly heard gunfire and hurriedly peered around the vault. And there on the ground lay the dead Watta with a bullet hole in his forehead. The man he called Boss was putting down a slightly smoking .75 and saying, "You shouldn't waste good bullets and guns on freaks," to the man apparently wasn't alive to answer.

Toki Hidenaki let out a small cry.

"Shut the girl up," the boss ordered his other men. They advanced upon the small Hidenaki. 

Sora's eyes widened. She wouldn't let the girl be harmed any more. She leaped up—

Toki Hidenaki turned toward Sora and a sudden gust of wind swept through the warehouse, sending the carefully counted yen flying. Sora's urge to let out a raged war cry vanished and she nearly fell to her feet when she heard a loud wailing siren. The warehouse was bathed with blue light—red light—blue light...

The backup police squad had arrived!

She winced. Did they have to be so blatant about their arrival? The flashing lights were bad enough, but that stupid siren pounded into her ears with the delicacy of a raging bull.

"Get the girl out!" the Boss yelled to several of his underlings. They complied quickly, grabbing Toki and charging out another door.

Sora hissed and leaped up to follow.

"Who the hell is she??" someone yelled in alarm.

She raised her hand in greeting and vanished through the door, dodging the bullets that riddled the door behind her as she slammed it shut. Quickly jamming the doorknob with a chair, she paused for a moment to listen through the door. None of them were coming after her; they were too busy with the infiltrating cops outside.

She smiled slightly in satisfaction and looked around her. She was in a plain hallway that turned left several yards away. There was nobody here. She cursed and ran and down the corridor. She peered around the corner and saw that someone was stooped down to the ground, bent over his show. He looked up and saw her. She paled and charged out around the corner, hoping to catch him by surprise.

And catch him she did. "What the—" 

Sora slammed the hilt of her gun down on his head and he slumped to the floor, unconscious. Sora noted that he was not dead and moved on.

Eventually, following the one-way corridor, she emerged outside to the west area of the warehouse. The moon shone down, giving her enough light to see several dark shapes piling into a car. She let out a filthy remark and ran down the path to the car.

But she was too late. The driver revved up the engine and it began to peel out of the driveway.

Sora stopped. There was no way that she could catch the car. She fingered her gun for a moment then carefully took aim and the car. She pulled the trigger.

'_You'd better not miss,' murmured her inner voice._

BANG! The bullet tore into the back wheel of the car, causing it to careen fender first into the warehouse wall. Sora walked out from the shadows and out from behind a tall stack of crates, holding her slightly smoking gun ready. "Come on out," she called.

The car doors opened after a minute or so and two men stepped out.

Sora smiled brightly. "Everyone in that car is now officially under arrest. Please put your hands in the air. Anything you say can and will be used against you." She paused. "It would be best if you remained silent, though," she added.

One of them suddenly brought out his gun, aiming—

BANG! Sora had gotten there first, however and the gun clattered to the floor several feet behind the man. He shook his hands, cursing violently.

Sora clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Now, now. Don't speak like that. If your mother would hear you…"

"You're a good shot with that, girl," the other man said, eyeing her in a way that made Sora wonder if killing him would be considered a mortal sin. "But you'd better scram. I'm not up fer killing girls t'night."

Sora arched her eyebrow. "Don't have the stomach for it? And here I was, thinking that the Sayonara gang was chock full of strong brave people who wouldn't bat an eyelash to mass genocide. Could I have been wrong?" She shrugged. "There's a first time for everything."

"Damn you!" he yelled, raising his gun.

But Sora was already moving. The shot whizzed past her as she zipped toward him. She grabbed his gun and artfully twisted her arm and sideswiping his legs. The gun came free in her hand as the man fell to the ground.

"You're gonna get it, girl!" 

Sora suddenly remembered that there was another thug around. She turned her head and saw him charging at her with the gun she had shot from his hands. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the man whose gun she had taken into unconsciousness and stood up, facing the other gang member.

A smile crept up to her lips when she saw him.

"Drop the gun," he stated. "Both of them."

Sora complied, releasing the other man's gun and pulling out her own. She looked at it for a few moments.

"Drop it!" he said sharply.

She glared at him and did so. "If it gets any scratches—"

He leered at her. "Good girl." He aimed his gun. "Now I will kill you."

Sora arched her eyebrow. "Don't I get any last words?"

The thug snorted. "Why bother? Nothin's gonna stop me from killin' you. You're gonna die tonight, lady."

"Come on," she prodded. "It's the least you can grant a doomed girl. I'd be terribly grumpy when I would go to Hell if I wasn't allowed to enjoy the remainder of my life in the light of death."

The man looked puzzled by her words but shrugged off his confusion. "Sorry officer." He readied the gun.

Sora sighed. "Well, this is it, I guess."

"Yeah—what?" The man stared at the gun in his hands.

Sora grinned maliciously. When she had first shot the gun from the man's hand, she also caused the bullet to shatter the trigger mechanism. "I really didn't want to do it to your gun, my friend. That's a pretty nice model. I'm sorry."

And with that, she sped forward, kicking high and snapping the gun from his hand by instinct, since she really didn't need to. After all, disarming him of a useless firearm would be rather pointless, wouldn't it? She caught the gun (again, out of habit) and jammed her fingers into a nerve in his neck.

He stiffened for a moment and collapsed.

Sora sighed, looking at his ruined gun. "Such a pity," she murmured. She tossed it onto the comatose man's body and picked up her own gun. She studied it carefully…a scratch! She glared at the cataleptic man and kicked his side for good measure. Unfortunately, he wasn't awake to give her a satisfying groan of pain, so her anger still remained discontented and very vindictive.

A scream suddenly cut through the night air from the east.

Sora cursed and recalled Toki Hidenaki. She ran over to the car and peered inside. Empty! They had escaped while she was taking care of the goons.

She ran towards the area where she had heard the scream. The noise seemed to be coming from the docks. As she ran, she readied the gun and hoped that Toki was still all right, thinking about the reprieve she'd get if the girl was hurt. It was bad enough that she took independent action in every step of her night, disobeying her superior's commands.

She reached the docks and cast a searching glance around. There they were. The man had his back to her, but she could see that he was holding the Hidenaki girl in the usual way people held hostages.

"Hey, buster—take one step closer and the brat's gonna get it!" he was saying. Sora briefly wondered who he was speaking to. Her gaze swept the area and suddenly stopped to rest upon the dark figure standing at the foot of the pier.

Upon closer scrutiny, she realized with an aggravated start, that it was her mysterious blue-eyed helper, who also helped the Sayonara. She noted with much irritation that she still could not see his face, nor the real color of his hair. She needed an ID scan run on him. There weren't that many blue-eyed people in Odaiba, Japan. She frowned and controlled herself from shattering the crate she crouched behind.

She would deal with him later. Right now, there was the problem of wresting the girl from the clearly panicking thug. By the way, she noticed, with some relief, that the girl was very much unharmed. Blindfolded and bruised, but not bleeding profusely from any recent wounds.

Good. One less log to add to the fire she would receive back at the station.

She stepped out into the open behind the gang member. He was taller than she was, although he was smaller than the blue-eyed benefactor. Her eyes met the pale-haired man's and the corner of his lip turned upward. She glared at him and signaled for him to ignore her.

He grinned and Sora groaned inwardly. He said to the Sayonara, "Let go of the girl, now. She is nothing to you, and you know that."

"Whaddaya mean, punk?" the thug snorted, causing Sora to smirk at the irony of that. "She's my ticket outta here. You ain't no officer, so you have no business with me at all."

The other man nodded, looking thoughtful. "You're right on that score. I'm not with the police, or any law organization, for that matter. But there's a score I have to settle with you gangsters."

Sora arched her eyebrow. So there was more to this story than she thought. He wasn't just some meddler who found it amusing to play with them. She speculated what his beef was with the Sayonara.

"I'm no gangster!" the Sayonara yelled. "I'm just a driver."

"If you aren't part of the Sayonara gang, then just let go of the girl." The mysterious man shrugged.  "It wouldn't matter to you whether you have the girl or not. You can go if you leave her."

"No-oh," the lackey snapped. "I ain't fallin' for yer schmuck. I'm not gonna fail this one."

The other fellow's eyes suddenly brightened into a clearer blue and he let out a smile that caught Sora's breath for a moment, before she growled several choice oaths under her breath and continued to watch. 

He asked the nervous man, "What's so different about this time that you actually believe that you can succeed? All of the other times, you just failed again and again and again and—"

"Shut up!" the mobster snapped. He grabbed Toki's neck and held his gun (a .45 caliber pistol) to her neck. "I'll shoot her right now!"

Sora wondered if they knew each other or if Blue-eyes was just playing a very astute psychological game some officers played to get their criminals behind bars. She'd played the same game herself to a few scumbags and it was almost as effective as the more tiring physical approach. 

"Unless you fail it, too," the shadowed man chuckled. He spoke in an oddly gentle voice. "Besides, I haven't moved a single step. You'd have failed your little threat as well. But it doesn't matter, does it?" he mused. "Just one more to add to the rapidly growing pile..."

"Shut up, damn it!"  the Sayonara screamed, waving his gun in the air. "I won't fail ever again! I'm not going to shoot her!"

Sora caught her opportunity. She rose from behind the crate and announced, "You don't know how glad I am to hear that," and fired her gun at his in a replica of her trick with the other Sayonara.

He let out a curse which she hoped the little girl didn't hear and turned around, inadvertently letting the girl go.

Sora laughed with delight and lunged, swinging her gun into his face. He reeled back from her blow but was able to come back at her surprisingly quick. He lashed out at her and she ducked, sweeping his legs out from behind him and dove forward, propelling the man away. She rolled to her feet quickly and waited. 

The man stood  rather shakily from where he landed and glared at her. Sora smiled sweetly at him. "You can give up now, if you want." With an inarticulate roar, the mobster charged at her.

The detective sighed. "Oh, well, if you like it that way—don't worry, it won't ruin our relationship in the slightest way—you'll still get the dirtiest cell I can find, if you're good." She sidestepped the gang member's lunge and clothes-lined him against the crates, which burst open under his body.

"Must you persist with all this useless banter?" the pale-haired man asked her in an exasperated tone. He was kneeling by Toki Hidenaki, who was still blindfolded at the moment but seemed to be watching Sora's little game.

"I'll do my job the way I do my job," she shot back. "Now leave me alone."

"Of course. By the way, he's behind you."

Sora whirled around and skipped back several feet. She completely leaned back, slapping her hands on the ground. The Sayonara reached her when suddenly her feet exploded forward, slamming him squarely on the chest. The man, his breath knocked out of him for the moment, fell back and Sora neatly flipped to her feet.  She dusted her hands off, smiling satisfactorily.

"A good fight—Damn!"

The Sayonara's legs duplicated her side-sweeping move and she toppled, cursing her inattentiveness all the way. She sprang to her feet but was unable to duck the plank that he had picked up from the jumble of crates. It hit her on the back of her head. She stumbled forward and barely had time to dodge his next hit. She looked up to see him reach into his jacket and draw out a knife. His hand plunged—

'_Oh, damn—'_

Only to be stopped by a hand paler than his as it held back the knife.

Sora looked beyond him and saw the tense handsome face of the blue-eyed man. She was startled that he could move so fast from far across the docks. He wrenched the knife out of the thug's grip and crashed its hilt upon the back of the Sayonara's head, knocking him out of the game. The man let the knife slide to the floor and looked at Sora for a few moments, studying her.

He suddenly smiled. "The girl is over there." He turned and began to walk away. "'Bye."

"Hold it!" Sora hastily stood up. "Who are you? Why the hell did you clue in the Sayonara? Whose side are you on, anyway?"

He grinned at her. "Aren't we full of questions tonight?" He winked at her. 

She ignored the little shiver down her back and snapped, " Answer me now!"

"I'll see you around, Detective." He paused. "By the way, the headquarters of the Sayonara gang is all the way across town. You wouldn't know it by looking at it. This is just one of their facilities." He laughed. "Good luck in finding it."

"Wait!" Sora commanded, but he already had disappeared into the darkness. She stepped forward to follow him but stopped, hearing the girl groan. Sora had a little debate with herself at the moment and let out a little angry growl before hurrying over to Toki.

She decided that she could chew rocks later.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *                *              *              

Sora sighed in frustration. Who the hell was he? What was he doing around the Sayonara gang's little hidey-hole? She deduced that he couldn't currently be one of them, since he had helped her out at first and at the end, therefore betraying them. It was also entirely possible that he was once a member of the Sayonara gang, or that he was a member of another rival group.

She rested her elbows on her cluttered desk, massaging her head in a futile attempt to dispel the headache brought upon her by her mental fishing. She recounted the events of last night.

He had said that he had something to deal with concerning the gangsters.  What did he mean by that? Sora guessed that this business he had to take care of was one of the main reasons why he played with all of them in a game that Sora grudgingly admitted was played admiringly well. He was an excellent gamer, and she, being one herself, saw it clearly.

Sora scowled. If he had some beef with the gangsters, then why the hell did he clue them in as well? Why did he tell them that she would be there? Hold it—how did he even know that she would be there? If she recalled it correctly, he somehow did. He even knew her rank and had seemed to be waiting for her when she crawled out of the ventilation shafts.

He was powerful, she was certain. Who could knock out so many men and come out scotch-free? She was also convinced of his intellect. He was incredibly intelligent. The ways he analyzed and manipulated the hapless gangster and drove him mad were strokes of pure genius that Sora couldn't help but admire.

So he was both physically and intellectually gifted. The mysterious blue-eyed man could be considered dangerous. Sora groaned and banged her head against her desk. Just another complication to add.

And she _really needed to get her paperwork done._

************

The yes' and the no's:

Yes, it may be boring.                                                                                      No, I don't care. 

Yes, the more interesting parts come later.                                            No, not too soon. 

Yes, I will continue with my lagging pace.                                                No, I won't take a month to get a story out all the time. 

Yes, the other characters will pop up in the later events.                  No, this is not a self-insert story. 

Yes, it looks like the typical police story.                                                   No, it's not. 

And at last:

Yes, I'm probably pissing everyone off.                                                     No, I don't give a damn.


	3. Subway Magic

************

Sora walked down the subway stairs, feeling exuberant. It had been a pretty good day at work. She had managed to help Intelligence crack a case about some drug abusers and also learned how to diffuse a bomb, thanks to Tai. The man was a whiz with TNT, as disturbing as the notion was. (There were far too many things the man could do with TNT, other than making it explode.) The only downside to the day was merely the sudden and unwanted malfunctioning of her car.

She stopped.

_Merely? She nearly screamed at herself. Her car was helpless, lying at the hands of a couple of so-called professionals who could freely disembowel her car to the seatbelts. As irrational as it was, she loved her car like she loved her gun—it was right up there with her parents and her parakeet. Leaving it at the mercy of strangers was like leaving a child to fend for itself in the streets._

It was strange. Her car always gave a sign before it broke down—that was how close their relationship was—but in this case, it stopped working when she was backing out of the station without screaming in agony. There was no reason why it had malfunctioned. Sora always made sure her car was in top shape inside and out. It just...broke down. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

Sora began walking again, muttering curses underneath her breath. She felt helpless. There was nothing she could do about the strange breakdown of her car, there was nothing she could do about fixing it, other than taking a more complete course on car machinery—her first course must not have been too accurate. So there was no use worrying about it.

Out loud, at least.

Darkly, she looked around the station and spotted the sign bearing her train number and walked toward it, wondering why there were barely any people around. She frowned slightly at the silence. The only other person around was the custodian.

Checking her watch, she was pleased to know that her train would arrive soon. She didn't like quiet subway stations. For that matter, it shouldn't even be this quiet. There were no public announcements of train arrivals and departures, no anxious commuters awaiting their trains. She was the only one standing on the platform. It was eerie. Stations were usually up to their ears in passengers at 6:30 pm. Sora narrowed her eyes.

Something was up. It was too empty. 

"It's not that empty a subway, Miss Takenouchi," a voice rang out.

Sora registered the fact that the cool light voice was familiar before glancing around in surprise.

In the semi-dark subway lights, she saw a man standing on the opposite side of the station, across the rails. The train's path lay between them, so she could not reach him. Sora's hands automatically began to reach for her gun.

His hair was pale and once again seemed colorless, for he was standing directly under the light of the lamps, but his blue eyes twinkled mysteriously with mirthful irony.

"You!" Sora snapped.

He laughed. "Caught, I see." He glanced around, an amused smile on his face. "That is, if you can jump over these rails." He gestured to the electromagnetic tracks beneath the platform and let out a little laugh. 

As if to give extra emphasis on the impossibility of reaching him, the rails gave a series of smug-sounding sparks and sizzling sounds. She grudgingly admitted to herself that he was right—there was no way for her to catch him now. Of course, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was right. 

He probably knew that she lost that one, anyway.

"How do you know my name?" Sora snapped, glaring at him.

"I think it would be better for you not to bring out your gun, Sora," the man commented. "I won't be hurting you or anything. I just want to talk to you for a while. You're a very interesting person, I've noticed."

Sora scowled. How did he know that she was reaching for her gun? She trained herself to be virtually unnoticed whenever she reached for her gun. It was second instinct for her to be furtive in drawing out arms.

"Why don't you ever answer my questions?" she exclaimed in a voice loaded with irritation. "Is it a defect with you or something? Are you infected with the 'can't-answer-questions' syndrome?"

He laughed, a sound that sent unwanted thrills dancing down Sora's spine. He was a handsome man with an equally handsome voice. 

"How's your car, Sora?" he then asked her.

Sora nearly fell over with surprise. She immediately forgot about dancing thrills and hurriedly regained her composure. "How did you—what are you talking about?" she snapped.

"It's broken, isn't it?" he smiled at her. "Pity."

Anger surged through Sora's veins and clouded her vision as suspicion flooded her mind. "You tampered with my car, didn't you, you monster?" she demanded, her voice low and lethal. 

"Would I do that?" he asked nonchalantly. "Whatever for?"

"Because you're the fraudulent bastard you are!" she growled furiously. "Don't mess with my car and leave me alone!"

He looked at her closely. She felt too open under his close scrutiny. He seemed to find what he wanted and then he smirked.  "That's not very nice," he remarked saucily, arching his eyebrow.

Sora snorted ungraciously. "Neither is this playing around of yours. What's the deal?"

He looked pensive for a few moments, then he nodded. "You're right. It must be very stressful for you, Sora. I know you love your car very much. Please forgive me." He flashed her a dazzling smile.

Sora deliberately pushed the sudden rush of her heartbeat out of her mind, not caring whether it stopped—her anger right now could have fueled her to the ends of the world—and frowned, noting that he had ignored her question again. "It's not like you'll stop. You'll just find more ways to be sneakier."

He shrugged. "Maybe. Anyway, all I wanted to tell you was to keep an eye on things to the east of town." A cynical smile flitted over his handsome face. "Things may begin to burn up down there."

"What are you talking about?" Sora snapped. 

The pale-haired man glanced at his wrist, although Sora saw no watch. A smile grew on his lips and he looked at her. "It has been amusing and very pleasant to talk to you, Senior Detective Sora Takenouchi, but I'm afraid that I must be off now. Time presses upon my presence. Until we meet again," he declared and mockingly touched two fingers to his temples in a derisive salute. 

"Hold it!" Sora barked, stepping forward.

He grinned at her and flicked his fingers down.

A bullet train suddenly emerged from the shadows of the tunnel and charged into the station. Surprisingly, it was empty. There were absolutely no people inside it, and Sora's skin chilled as it passed by. It took five seconds for it to completely pass the train station. A mere span of time, but it was enough.

When the train had gone, she saw that he was gone.

She glanced around and saw no trace of him. She let out a vehement curse. How could a man disappear completely in five seconds? And what was with that empty train?

"Excuse me," a voice suddenly cut into her thoughts.

Sora jerked away, her hand moving toward her holster. A young, brown-haired woman who looked around her age stared at her. The detective gaped at her. She wasn't there a moment ago!

She looked around frantically and saw many people milling around, awaiting the next train. The PA system appeared to have been blaring out for the past few hours, announcing the arrival of the next bullet train and the train schedule. There were many lights on, a contrast to the dark subway station she had entered minutes ago.

Wasn't the station completely empty a while ago?

Sora felt dizzy.

"Are you all right?" the woman repeated, looking concerned. 

Sora looked at her and saw a man walking away behind her. It was the custodian. The only other person she had seen when she had been alone in the station, aside from the mysterious asshole. He had been standing on a ladder replacing the lights. 

He saw her as well and grinned at her and mockingly touched the brim of his hat, turning to leave.

It was him!

Sora recognized the insulting salute. He seemed to know that she recognized him and winked one blue eye cynically as he strolled away, pushing a cart.

She heard the deafening sound of the bullet train roar into the subway station behind her. The throng of commuting people surged in and out of the train, blocking her view of him.

He had been on the other side of the subway station, she remembered, and he definitely wasn't wearing the hideous green janitor's uniform. He still managed to make it look good, though—what was she thinking?

Her head swam. This was all too much. She needed a break.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Mimi Tachikawa stared at the pale-looking redhead. She seemed dazed. "Are you all right?" she asked again, wondering if the woman heard her the first and second time and was just ignoring her because strange ladies who talk to people at six in the evening in a subway station are to be avoided.

Well, that's what Mimi thought.

The redhead blinked and turned to look at Mimi. "What is it, ma'm?"

Mimi arched her eyebrow at this before realizing that the woman probably _didn't_ hear anything. A sneaking suspicion crept up on her but she quickly brushed it off the surface. '_Could she have possibly been the one?_' she wondered.

Mimi answered, "I was just wondering whether you were all right, if it's all right for me to ask. You look kind of dizzy. Lost. Dazed. Overcome. Bewildered. And all those other puzzled adjectives." Mimi winced. "Sorry."

The lady's scarlet eyes were filled with confusion. She blinked again and smiled shakily. "I'm all right, miss. Thank you for your concern, though. It isn't often that strangers would talk to strangers this late in the evening in a subway station."

Mimi frowned. She wouldn't let her get away just yet. "I don't think so. What time will your train come? I'll help you on."

She laughed and shook her head, although the motion made her stagger very slightly. "Don't bother, I'm fine. My train will be here soon, anyway. You should worry about your train."

Mimi shrugged. "My train is—"

A train roared into the station, drowning out all possible noises in its explosion of sound. Mimi and the woman stepped back from the edge (that was where they were standing) and waited for it to slow to a stop.

"This is my train." The woman smiled at Mimi.

Mimi nodded. "Let me help you on, anyway. It would ease my conscience and earn me Girl Scout stars to add to my lucky sticker book."

To Mimi's surprise, the woman laughed and walked with her to the open door. Mimi led the lady in and the doors swooshed closed.

"What about your train, Ms...?" she looked troubled.

"Call me Mimi," Mimi laughed. She sat down on an available seat. "This _is_ my train, so don't worry about me. I'll be here for a while—it'll help to have someone to talk to, at least. I take it for five long and boring stops. God curse the day I chose to work this far from home."

Sora looked around and saw that the only other available seat was next to a sleeping man with a beer belly and green saliva dribbling down his chin. She grimaced and took a firm hold of the bar. "I'm Sora Takenouchi."  

At this Mimi brightened inwardly. She immediately recognized the name. Detective Sora Takenouchi of Odaiba was famous for cracking difficult forensic and investigative cases without breaking a sweat. She could not possibly have been the one. Mimi nearly sagged with relief at this. She was not in the mood to do her job. Mimi was a sort of sleuth herself—only the criminals she tracked down weren't always entirely human.

She had Power. The Gift. A great deal of it, too. Mimi's abilities had exceeded her to an indefinite level, like those of her agency, and she could do nearly everything, except for reading minds—that was someone else's job.

She had been passing through the station when she suddenly felt remarkably subtle waves of Mana soaking into the air from deeper within. And since it didn't come from Mimi herself, it was necessary for her to investigate.

Besides, the Mana waves seemed familiar.

Mimi was currently on the trail of someone with a mysterious Gift. Or maybe not so mysterious. Perhaps what perturbed her and her agency was the way he used it. She did not know who he was or how he looked like. She didn't need to. There was a sort of signature released every time a Gifted person used his or her power. And Mimi had been exposed to this character's mark many times in the past.

He wasn't exactly an enemy, of that Mimi was certain. This person had frequently used his Power to save a life or two, but there were times when his aura lingered in questionable situations. He had to be confronted—he was Powerful. More so than Mimi herself.

What was worse, he seemed to know how to penetrate a person's entire being, Gifted or not. He was extremely talented at manipulation and had played mind-boggling games with all of the Gifted agents who had attempted to track him. 

And now it was Mimi's turn.

"...so I thank you for helping me out," Sora was saying. Mimi forced herself from her brooding and listened to the detective confess that she just didn't like admitting weakness.

Mimi grinned, waving it off. "It was nothing—don't think about it. I was nagging you, anyway. Annoying, I know, but I had to—you looked ill."

Sora blushed. "Just overwhelmed..."

Mimi looked at her skeptically. "Overwhelmed by what? The subway station?"

She shook her head. "There was this man...Never mind." She looked depressed again.

Mimi prodded on, interested all of a sudden. "Go on. Was he hot?"

Sora sighed dramatically and glared at Mimi. "Why does everyone think that way? Everyone asks that." At Mimi's innocent look, she went on, "For instance, what if the guy was my grandfather or something?"

"Was he?"

"Well, no, but—"

"So was he hot?"

"GOD!!"

And so on.

As the stations slid by, Mimi found herself enjoying the detective's wit and explosive charm. Mimi was glad that Sora wasn't the mysterious Gifted person. Her aura was strange, certainly, but it wasn't familiar to her at all. By the time they reached Sora's stop, they had promised to contact each other again before bidding each other goodbye.

Mimi smiled slightly when she left and leaned back against the window. Mimi had divulged a little of her Power in reading the detective's personality. According to the hidden message in Sora's psyche, she was a very sweet girl under the tough-as-nails exterior. You couldn't see it talking to her, though. Mimi had the feeling that Sora could melt a glacier with her stare.

Sora was _very_ good at the exterior part.

Mimi looked up at the station guide and saw that her stop was the next one. She sighed with relief. Right now, the image in her mind about her bed was filled with flowers and rainbows, contrary to the bleak white comforter and mattress she customarily slept on each every night. She gazed at the station number, irrationally marveling at the beauty of it.

Making a friend after a hard day of work was fine, but the hard day of work part made her long for the too-soft mattress waiting for her at home.

Abruptly, the subway plunged into a darkly lit tunnel, disabling her from heaping praises upon the colored station number. As she muttered oaths at the inopportune darkness, she felt the almost intangible wave of Power—it belonged to him.

Alarmed and excited, she looked around, trying not to attract attention. There weren't many people in the car and none of them had anything significant in their auras. Mimi extended the range of her mind, sweeping the entire subway train. There were no tinges of Power at all in any other person in the bullet train. 

The pit in her stomach deepened at the extent of his Power. It was difficult for Power to move through a subway train in motion.

She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that he was too careful to let her detect him, anyway. She looked up—and saw her reflection in the opposite mirror strangely illuminated. She stared at herself for a few moments, wondering. 

She froze.

The Mimi in the window reflection was grinning at her and waving her fingers, using her other hand to hold up her purse.

Mimi dared not take her eyes off the reflection but she felt for her purse uneasily. Her mind reached out to touch the window and indeed, that was where the One's Power was centered. He was communicating with her. Her blood began to race with eagerness to contact him.

The pseudo-Mimi laughed suddenly, winking at her. She then opened the purse and lifted out a scrap of paper. The corner of the reflection's mouth turned up wryly and put the paper back in.

Mimi's brow momentarily creased with irritation before reverting to resigned amusement. If there was anything at all that she was sure of about him, it was his creativity. Whoever he or she was, the person was a genius.

Mimi sighed and looked straight at the reflection, nodding her head. '_Might as well see what he wants, I suppose.'_

The reflection grinned at her and tinkled her fingers in the gesture Mimi habitually used. The image simmered for a moment, then vanished from the original reflection. Mimi found herself staring at her normal self again.

The subway then emerged from the tunnel, light flooding the car.

Mimi opened her bag and opened it. Sure enough, there was a folded up sheet of paper on top of her Gameboy™. She knew it was his—she definitely didn't put the paper there, right near the bottle of nail polish.

Definitely a guy. A guy wouldn't know that the bottles of this particular nail polish company leak, and this one did. There were Pretty Pink splashes on the monitor of her Gameboy™ to prove it.

"A hint!" Mimi chuckled to herself. The mysterious Gifted was a man. _'Wait 'til Miya hears this…'_

She grinned again and unfolded the letter. It took her some time to do this, for the paper was intricately folded into a breath-taking shape. 

Another possible clue: the man was a master at origami.

Mimi made a face when she spread it out at last—the last folds were done pretty tightly. The Gift wielder just _had to do it the hard way._

Surprisingly, there were only two fold lines running across the paper, contrary to the many little triangles Mimi fought her way through earlier. She scowled.

Another one of the magician's perks. An innocent mind warp.

She cursed her carelessness—if the mind warp wasn't meant to be an innocuous play with her mind and fingers, if it was meant to do something dangerous other than being a mere annoyance and waste of time, Mimi's mind would have been trapped into oblivion, or worse. 

After exhausting her limited vocabulary of foul words and promising herself to ask Sora for some more—when Sora had stumbled against a pole during earlier part of the trip, she had let out a river of expletives, most of which Mimi didn't know the meaning of—she studied the contents of the letter with her Gift to make sure that there were no more mind warps and found no other trap but the folding of the paper.

She opened her eyes and began to read the letter.

**_                To Whoever Saw Herself Waving in the Reflection,_**

****

**_I am glad to see that you have made a new friend. Stick close to her, that's what I advise you. _**

**_Friends _****are_ very important, after all. It's wise to keep in touch with friends, you'd never know when                 they may need your help—or you may need theirs._**

**_                Do not think that I mean this as a warning to frighten you—I do not believe that                                        you can be frightened so easily by a mere letter. Nor is it a cruel joke to get you on your guard (which   you should be)—although I admit, the harmless origami was rather fun, wasn't it?_**

**_                By the way, you really should keep your guard up. Things are finally being set into motion.                  But you need not worry about me. I will be as harmless as a defanged wolf cub. _**

**_Clouds form in the horizon, says the weatherman._**

****

**_                                                                                                Your faithful companion_**

Mimi stared at the letter. What was he getting at?

************

Yes? No?

                                Yes, it's strange.                                                                 No, it's not psychotic.

                                Yes, it's messed up.                                                           No, I like it that way.

                                Yes, Yamato has his own agenda.                               No, I'm not telling—yet.

                                Yes, things will be more interesting.                            No, don't go! Come back!!


	4. Temporary Lull in Events

************

How long has it been since I last updated? Well, long enough, I suppose. Caught up with everything else. So to make up for it, here's the next chapter.

************

"Good morning!" Kari sailed into Sora's office, bringing with her two cups of coffee. A rather wise foresight, considering Sora's morning personality to her normal attitude was like hell-fire to candlelight.

"Knock." Sora looked up from a confession report and glared at the overly cheerful girl.

Her younger colleague wrinkled her nose. "It's not like you're awake enough to do anything important, anyway," she pointed out.

 "Knock," Sora deadpanned.

"I mean, you're always zoning out in the morning—I'm too important to have to knock! I am life!"

"Knock."

But Kari, long accustomed to the detective's mood swings, grinned cheekily and plopped into the chair by Sora's desk. "What makes you think that I'd ever do that?"

"Blind hope?"

Kari laughed and held out a mug. "This'll make you human again."

"Aren't _you_ little Miss sunshine today? Who'd you humiliate this time?" Sora took the mug and moved her attention to the map she held in her hands.

"Tai, who else?"

Sora arched her eyebrow. "Isn't it a little immoral to scam money off your own brother?"

The brown-haired girl laughed. "Aren't you the one to talk? Besides, Tai brought it upon himself. He was insisting that he found a way around me, and I took him up on it, and…well…" she trailed off, grinning.

Sora continued, "And now he's a little short on donut money."

"Right." The notorious card-shark showed her pointy fangs.

Sora frowned at the map, staring at it hard enough to burn a hole through the plastic. She had marked the places where they had located Sayonara hideouts. There was the dock warehouse in the west, and another shady location further east. The gang was lightly scattered all over Odaiba, yet they still hadn't found the main headquarters, after all those raids.

She attempted to recall what the mysterious blue-eyed man had said to her in the train station last week. Something about keeping an eye on the other side of town?

Upon checking the said area, she noted that the sprinkling of headquarters there was lighter than the other places. They hadn't drawn much attention to themselves over there, but who would? That area was mostly rural, nothing exciting, but pretty un-patrolled by the police station there.

She scowled. That didn't mean anything. The infamous Sayonara couldn't be _that_ obvious.

She froze. Wait—

The door banged open. "Helloo, ladies!" Tai barreled in. "I have donuts!" he sang, sending his sister a rather triumphant look. "And they're delightfully jelly!" he brought them out with a flourish.

Izzy, who had a particular weakness for jellied donuts, followed the large-haired man into the room. "Donuts!" he demanded. "Hungry!"

Sora looked amused at Izzy's inability to form sentences with more than one word whenever jelly donuts were present. "Why do you choose my office as a gathering point of chaos?"

"We minions of the Hell Donut need no reason to bring chaos upon the unwary!" Tai declared, opening the box and dancing around the small office as well as he could. He promptly tripped upon the nearest thing he could trip on—his own two feet.

Luckily, Kari had the presence of mind to anticipate her brother's little fall and caught the donuts. The girl laughed and reclined in her chair. "You're getting old, Tai. You'd have never let these donuts fall."

Sora frowned, trying to ignore the scent of the sweet circles of flavored bread. "And what makes you think that I'd let you spread crumbs around my office?" she demanded.

Kari paused, trying to think. "Your intensely overwhelming affection for your colleagues whom you cannot live without?" she guessed.

Sora folded her arms. "Try a little harder. Why should I let you eat here? I shouldn't allow you guys to dirty up my office, even for donuts."

Then her stomach protested, sending out a hungry grumble. Sora looked a little harried, and she burst out, "Fine, fine! Go ahead! Make my office a breeding ground for bacteria!"

"Like it isn't already?" Tai muttered, earning a scarlet glare.

"Your wish is our command, Detective!" Kari grinned, reaching for a donut. 

Sora quickly swatted the officer's hand away. "Provided I get first pick," she said smugly and swiftly scooped up the most coveted donut.

"Sora!" everyone wailed.

"I wanted that!" Tai whined, looking on the verge of a tantrum. "Give it to me now! It's my box!"

Sora arched her eyebrow at him and deliberately bit into the donut with exaggerated slowness. "Mmm…heaven in a mess of flour, yeast and sugary goodness…" She winked.

The three other senior officials glared at her. She held up her hands. "Hey, it's my office, Hell Minions. Besides, there's one more left, I think," she added, stepping back.

Thus setting off a mad scramble for the donut box on the table as everyone else dove to get the last. Sora watched with mild amusement, chewing her donut as Kari seemed to be getting the upper hand.

The door suddenly swung open and the Inspector strode in. The contenders for the donut box froze in mid-grab and hurriedly straightened.

 "What's with all the noise?"  Ken looked around and moved to Sora's table, where everyone was clustered. "Detective, we have questioned all of the men captured last week. None of them appear to know nothing of where the main hideout might be situated." He looked disgusted. "They were all kept in the dark by the mastermind."

"Knock next time, Ichijouji." Sora leaned back, furrowing her brow as she swallowed the last of her donut. "They weren't important then. Merely hired help or ignorant initiates."

Ken nodded, shrugging. "It certainly seems that way. Most of the men were young fools."

Tai, Kari and Izzy began to sidle away. Ken gave them a look and they stayed put, each alternately looking furtively at the much fought-over jelly donut and glaring at each other.

Sora sighed, putting her feet up on her chair. "So we have to start all over again?" she asked in a resigned voice.

The dark-blue haired man shook his head, his eyes becoming intent. "Not quite. We have a tentative lead this time. A woman by the name of Tachikawa seems to know something, but we cannot ascertain the validity of her statement. Intelligence hasn't come up with a full report on the woman."

Sora looked at him warily, but Izzy cut in, his capability to let out complete sentences restored to him for the moment. "What information can the woman provide, Ken?"

Ken trained his violet eyes on the Chief of Intelligence. "She informs me that she has a way to help in identifying who the ringleader is."

"It sounds dubious," Kari mused.

"Very," Ken agreed. "But a lead is a lead. We can't dismiss even the slightest clue with this gang." He turned back to Sora. "I trust that you will undertake the task of interviewing Ms. Tachikawa?"

Sora nodded, her eyes lighting up. "I will do whatever you ask me to, Chief," she drawled.

Ken winced at that. "No shackles, Sora. The first scream I hear coming from your office, you're fired."

The detective visibly sagged at that. "You can't fire me, Ken. I'm an independent."

Ken smirked. "You don't know how many ways I can put you out of work for life, Sora. Trust me. No shackles." He straightened. "The meeting will be at four or so tomorrow. I am informed that she might be a tad late, but you can be assured that Ms. Tachikawa will arrive."

Sora remarked, "She'd better be there tomorrow, because I confess that I'm curious to hear her out."

Ken nodded, "She will be there." As he turned to leave, he stopped. "Donuts?" He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"They're Tai's!" Kari exclaimed. Tai vehemently shook his head, although it was rather obvious it was his—he was the station's supplier of donuts.

Ken shrugged, deciding not to press the point—arguing with the Kamiyas would give anyone a headache. He picked up a donut. "Then if no one owns it, I suppose I may be allowed to have one." He took a bite. "Delicious."

Much to everyone but the now-blissful inspector and the irascible detective's dismay, the donut Ken was delightedly chewing on was the one everyone had fought for earlier.

Things pretty much went downhill from there.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *                *              *

Life for Toki Hidenaki had resumed its normal pace, although exactly _how normal it usually was couldn't be defined. Certainly, she still went to school, after a day or so of recuperation insisted by her parents, although Toki certainly didn't need any. As far as she knew, and she knew a lot, she was fine, mentally and spiritually. Her bruises ached a little, but they weren't a major hindrance in any way._

In school, everyone crowded around her, asking annoying questions about her abduction. Toki tried her best to answer her classmates, but to be frank, she didn't see much of her captors or anything else, as she spent most of her time blindfolded. Eventually, her curious horde of classmates faded away, leaving her alone.

Not that Toki minded. The girl pretty much preferred to be left alone. She liked it better that way, and she always had. She didn't have many friends at school, but that was fine with her. None of them bothered to understand her, anyway.

Toki was walking home from her elementary school a week later. Her face was carefully blank, and she knew that others only saw a small girl with straight black hair and bright green eyes walking with her head down.

Little did they know.

Toki was different. 

Not different in the special children kind of way. She was not the same as everyone else. She had something special burning inside her, something she grew to call the Fire. It was something she saw rarely in people but when she did, the Fire was never really that big.

The Fire was in her ever since she was born to her mother, a keeper of a shrine. She had played with it as a small child whenever no one was around, and it helped her See and Know things. 

The first time she had seen another with a bit of the Fire, she was surprised to see that theirs were merely drips of it. None had the raging bonfire she had, and theirs were quite different. She had to keep hers away from theirs or they would know she had it, and she knew that no one else could bear her Fire. Only she could withstand these Flames.

Right then, she knew that she was different, from all the children and from all the Fire carriers.

But what was she?

Toki sighed and moved her thoughts away from that to school. She was given no assignments for the day, so she wondered how she would spend her time. She was one of the top students in her third grade class, a by-product of her frequent trips to the libraries.

She walked slowly, carrying her books carefully as she moved down the sidewalk. What would Father be cooking at home tonight?

She didn't wonder anymore how she knew the moment she thought about it that her father would be making tonkatsu. She was never wrong in her guesses, although her father never kept a food plan. She knew it would be tonkatsu and miso soup from the convenience store down the road. Possibly a few French fries if he was feeling foreign.

Her black hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed it away with one hand. Her fingers swept against a bruise on her eyebrow and she winced. It still hurt, like the rest of her. 

The men who kidnapped her were very liberal with their blows. 

Toki rounded the corner and realized that this was where she was kidnapped. She remembered: she was walking home from school, exactly like today, and when she turned down the corner, a car sped up to the curb, its door opening. A hand grabbed her and pulled her in the car. Before she knew what was happening, her senses had dulled and faded. 

Which was odd enough. Even when she was sleeping, Toki still retained conscious use of her five senses. Something had taken away her senses with Fire.

Then she woke up blindfolded and aching. The kidnappers had given her many bruises, but only bruises. She had said nothing, only lifted her head, then they started beating her.

They did it a lot. The police thought it was because she never looked afraid or anything. But Toki knew better.

The kidnappers wanted a powerful reaction from _inside her. A man in the warehouse had a powerful aura, and he seemed schooled in the arts—he was the man who had put her to sleep when they took her. He had always ordered them to beat her up when she was rested. _

He wanted to see the Fire. He had a bit of it in himself.

How did he know she had it? Toki wondered. She had hidden herself well—how could they have found her?

"Is that you, Toki?" a clear male voice suddenly asked the pensive girl.

Toki looked up, smiling and unsurprised. "Cody!"

The young college student leaning on the fence winced. "That's Iori to you, Toki. I don't even know where you got Cody," he remarked, his green eyes twinkling merrily at her.

Toki grinned at her second cousin, Iori Hida. "Of course, Cody."

Cody rolled his eyes, which soon became serious. "How are you, Toki?"

Toki knew he was pertaining to her latest adventure. She smiled wanly and showed him her bruise. "I've been better. It was exciting, though."

"Of course," Cody replied dryly, letting the subject drop when he saw the discomfort in Toki's eyes. "I'll walk with you."

The two relatives walked along together in companionable silence. Toki looked up at Cody. 

In many ways, they resembled each other. Both of them had shiny black hair and angular emerald eyes. Although he was a college student and she was in the third grade, they both acted older and wiser than others their ages. They both preferred silence to noisy merrymaking and were the only ones in their extended family who felt this way.

Both of them also had the Fire.

There was no doubt that Toki's was far more powerful than her cousin's, although his Fire was in no means weak or insignificant. Comparing Cody's Fire to other Fire-carriers' would show that Cody was powerful in his arts, and although Toki outstripped her cousin in power, she didn't know much about what to do with this immense power. Cody was well-schooled in the usage of the Fire.

It was comforting to talk to him, and they were the closest in their families. The only secret they kept from each other was the Fire. Toki knew of Cody's but she somehow hid hers from him. She didn't want him to know just yet.

Her power was different from his as well. She knew very well that he didn't sense strange spirits and dream of different lands and walking with divine beings in worlds completely different. He didn't wake up from sleep to find himself somewhere else and glowing.

She did. All the time. She knew she didn't belong here—but where she did, she didn't know. Nowhere on earth, she had assumed. There was something in her that longed for—

_BEEEP-BEEP-BEEP!_

Cody winced and reached into his bag to draw out a sleek black cell phone. "'Scuze me, Toki," he muttered and flipped it open. "Yes, Hida here," he answered in a professional tone. 

Toki listened absently to her second cousin as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Yes…yes, she should. Tell her…I've got the passes. They're ready—how many…? Is Mimi on her way yet? Right now? ...Good…Yeah. All right. I need the results tomorrow. Tell her to call me after the session. Goodbye." He snapped the phone shut and grinned apologetically at Toki. "Sorry."

"That was Yolei, wasn't it?" Toki asked, although she didn't really need to. She knew it was Miyako Inoue, Cody's friend and colleague, who was on the other end of the phone conversation. "How is she?"

"She's fine—wait a second." Cody frowned, looking surprised. "How did you know she was on the other end?" He paused again and laughed helplessly. "Never mind, cousin. I do not think I want to know just yet."

"Of course," she replied, replicating his remark perfectly and beaming innocently at him.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *                *              *

_Tappity__-tap.__ Tappity-tap._

Sora drummed her fingers impatiently against her desk as she waited for the informant to arrive. Her eyes watched the clock and the door alternately. She had been waiting. Ms. Tachikawa (she had neglected to ask Ken what the woman's first name was) wasn't late—no. Sora was simply early. She was eager to hear anything that may be a lead to the downfall of Odaiba's foulest.

Perhaps eager was too mild a word: Her fingers led a staccato beat against the rich wood of her desk. Her foot tapped incessantly against the floor and her eyes kept darting to and from the clock and the door.

High-strung was the least one could say about her disposition at that moment.

She glanced at the clock again and sighed.

Tai swept into the room with his ever-present box donuts. He was cheekily munching on a chocolate-covered donut, looking like the cat that got the cream. He looked at her and he announced, grinning: "Miss Tachikawa might be a bit late—"

"WHAT??" Sora exploded, shooting up from her seat and slamming her palms against the table.

Tai burst into laughter. "Just kidding," he quipped, earning a venomous glower and several finger twitches from Sora's direction. He swallowed the last of his donut and let out a breath satisfactorily. "You looked like you were intending to wear out fingernail holes in your desk, and I don't advise anything on it—finger holes might make fine pencil holders, but that's good wood."

Sora glared at him, reaching below her desk to come up with a little four-inch pistol in her hand. "You're a dead man, Kamiya." She snapped the safety off warningly.

"We are all born dying, aren't we?" Tai asked philosophically, shrugging, sounding surprisingly wise. "People with guns just help get us there faster."

Sora groaned and returned the safety, holstering the gun back under the desk. "It's no use talking to you like this," she muttered. "You'll just thank me after I shoot you in the kneecaps. Besides, this is a smart moment for you. You don't get many of those."

Taichi flung himself into a seat as he flipped the cover of his donut box open again. He scanned its contents with as much concentration a rocket scientist placed into his work and plucked out a donut with great relish. He gazed at it lovingly as he remarked, "I should be insulted. But I'm too overwhelmed by the beauty of this delectable donut to waste thoughts on being offended. No, my mind remains focused on this delightful roll of sweet and tasty—not to mention fresh and probably life-threatening for the old—donut."

Sora rolled her eyes and resumed her finger-drumming. Tai ogled his donut some more, then began to chew it, sighing happily. "Want one? They're still hot and soft and fresh from the oven…"

Sora shook her head and leaned back. "I'd probably hurl it all out—too excited to hold anything down, you see. I probably wouldn't taste it, anyway—blasphemous thought, eh? Right now, I think I could chew wood and spit out sawdust."

Tai raised an eyebrow. "I noticed." His eyes grew starry. "Wouldn't it be funner, though, if it was the other way around?"

Sora arched her eyebrow as well. "Funner?" she echoed.

Kari popped her head in the doorway and announced, "Ms. Tachikawa just entered the front gate, if you'd like to know."  Sora brightened up, her fingers speeding its rhythm. She eyed the red-haired detective. "What's with you, Sora? You look like a frog in a dung pile."

Sora looked offended. "Don't you normally reserve those kind of descriptions for Tai?" she complained, then paused. "That's a really disgusting thing, by the way."

Kari shrugged. "Whatever fits," she drawled and disappeared from the doorway, presumably to go look for someone to scam money from.

It hit Sora then. She glanced at Tai. "Did she just say that I looked like a frog?" she demanded, rounding on the hapless agent. "Is that's what she's telling me? You should know—she's your sister, after all. Do I look like a frog? And what did she mean by dung pile?"

The unfortunate Tai was truly unfortunate, for he hadn't been listening at all, caught up with the heavenliness of what used to be a donut rolling around in his mouth. Sora's sudden barrage of angry questions came unexpectedly, startling him from his mental prose.

"Ummm…yes?" he offered.

"OUT!!!" Sora roared, standing up with another firearm—a hunting rifle this time, loaded with blanks—and fired at the ceiling which was riddled with little black dents, ample evidence that Sora hadn't always used blanks in her little bursts of anger.

Tai left immediately.

Sora took a deep breath and sat down again.

Tai's big bushy head peeked out from around the doorframe and he asked meekly, "Can I get my donut box back? I left it on the chair—"

"Out!" Sora yelled, firing again. Tai was gone.

Bits and pieces of the ceiling crumbled down and tumbled onto the floor. Sora looked up and saw Izzy looking down the hole, holding a cup of coffee. When he saw that it was her, he went: "Oh. Figures."

Sora looked up at him wearily. "Sorry." Izzy shrugged and wandered out of vision.

Now that there were no more distractions, Sora gratefully resumed her finger-tapping. Several minutes later, just as she was about to go insane with impatience, there was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," Sora said abruptly, fingering her rifle in case it was Tai again.

The door creaked open—Sora decided that she had to do something about that; she heard it too often, as people kept barging in and out of her office and it was beginning to get on her nerves—and a woman stepped into Sora Takenouchi's office.

They gaped at each other for a few moments.

"Mimi?"

"Sora?"

"You're the informant?" Sora asked incredulously, quickly stuffing her rifle back into its hiding place.

The woman nodded. "Unfortunately. But I'm glad it's you I'll be talking to. I was given the impression that I'd be meeting some sort of ogress." She laughed.

"By whom?" Sora questioned with a slightly dangerous edge to her tone.

Mimi answered, not realizing what Sora's tone meant: "Some guy with brown hair and no gravity force around it. Very big poofy hair."

"With a newly opened box of donuts on one hand?" Sora asked warily. "Eyes slightly glazed over? Chewing first a sugar-glazed donut with sprinkles?"

Mimi nodded, looking slightly confused. "Yes. How did you know?"

Sora's eyes narrowed to slits and she stabbed her finger viciously on the intercom button. "Taichi Kamiya!" she hollered. To hell with everyone who'd hear (which was probably everyone within a five-mile radius—she was that angry). "You'd better scrape up some good reason explaining just why I shouldn't shove my gun up your ass!"

Mimi looked rather pale, Sora noticed, as she returned to her seat.

"Are you all right?" Sora inquired solicitously. "Hungry? Thirsty? Need a bit of exercise?"

Mimi regained her color and answered, "I'm fine. Thank you, though."

Sora grinned broadly. "Think nothing of it. I wouldn't want my informant to suddenly die of thirst, hunger, or high levels of cholesterol before I get my hands on that information." She paused and rested her elbows on the table, pensively cupping her chin against one hand. "Excuse me for wondering, though. I knew a Ms. Tachikawa was going to be coming here—but I didn't know that you were her as well."

Mimi spread her hands with some embarrassment. "The information is important. There are at least twelve other Tachikawas in the phone book who I am of no relation to."

"You guarded yourself well, then, I suppose," Sora admitted. "And for what secret information? What do you have for me?"

Sora had many questions she wanted to ask but at the moment, they weren't of any consequence and she knew she would sit better (and stop tapping her foot) when the info was spread out neatly before her. Besides, although she was no doctor, she was certain that 125 beats per minute was NOT good for anyone's heart.

Mimi grimaced. "All right. I'll spit it out."

"That would be advisable," Sora told her. "It's not that wise to be sitting on all that important information in the middle of an investigation."

Mimi shrugged. "OK. You know, of course, that whoever is at the head of the Sayonara gang probably has enough bread to keep a country eating for a month or so, right?"

Sora nodded, folding her arms thoughtfully on her desk. "To fund any possible plots, bribes or cover-ups. Of course."

Mimi bobbed her head but she frowned. "I've been told that the cops believe them a completely lower-class organization. Why is it that you believe that the leader is rich and powerful?"

Sora was quiet for a moment, then she stated, "The proposition held no water for me—and the rest of the people in this building, for that matter. I found that idea illogical and ridiculous. The ringleader can't be some aggressive country bumpkin—no peasant farmer knows that much about the social society and which strings to pull."

Mimi grinned. "Exactly."

Sora leaned forward. "So you know who the head of the organization is?" She sighed. "I owe Tai ten bucks."

Mimi laughed, looking slightly uncomfortable. "You should have asked for more than ten bucks," she admitted.

Sora's face fell. "So you don't." She made a face. "I should be happy. Ten bucks goes a long way to buy a hotdog."

Mimi smiled sheepishly. "I know the next best thing, though. You know about Hataro Tsukichi's little gala this week, don't you?"

Sora pursed her lips, furrowing her brow in thought. "I think I've heard Kari mention it before—she's one of my colleagues. Why?"

Mimi grinned widely. "I've gotten my hands on the guest list, and many of the crème of society will be there, along with several baddies whose names aren't to be ignored. You can almost bet that the bad boss of the mob would be there, trading idle stock gossip with the rest of them. Turning down Tsukichi's invitation is up there with mortal sin and is just as dangerous as sticking a honey-coated finger into a fire anthill."

Sora frowned, looking over the list and seeing that Mimi was right. There were many invited who were rich but disreputable. "That would be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. Hardly any of them aren't corrupt money swindlers. Nothing would give the guy away."

The door opened suddenly and Inspector Ken Ichijouji walked in calmly to the door's accompaniment of grating squeaks.

"Inspector!" Sora glared at him. "Eavesdropping isn't nice. And knock next time."

Ken nodded mildly, unperturbed by her irritated frown and greeted them as though Sora had merely inquired about the weather. Then he rummaged around his pocked and came up with several slips of fancy-looking paper. He handed them to her wordlessly.

Sora looked down at them:

**_You are invited to Mrs. Hataro Tsukichi's evening gala_**

Below that flamboyant piece of lettering were the dates, address and hints of black-tie affairs. Formal dresses and the like. Sora frowned and looked back up at Ken.

"The gala is this Saturday at six in the evening," he said smoothly before she could say anything. "You will take Taichi, Hikari, Koushiro and Ms. Tachikawa. I will accompany you as well. Wear a dress—it's a formal event."

Sora gawped at him for a moment.

"What?" she finally made out with some difficulty. It's hard to say anything, no matter how monosyllabic, when your mouth is stuck hanging wide open. She hinged her jaw and tried again. "What the hell are you talking about, Ken?"

He seemed slightly exasperated, although it didn't show much. She could swear that Ken could give that James Bond fellow a run for his money. "You, Sora," he explained patiently, "will attend Mrs. Tsukichi's gala. The three of your colleagues and I will accompany you, along with Ms. Tachikawa. We will attempt to winnow our way through Odaiba's finest upper-class and attempt to get to know them. It is a formal event, which means no denim jeans and jacket. You will wear a dress."

"What about khakis?" It slipped out of Sora's mouth.

"No khakis, Sora."

It finally dawned on Sora what Ken told her to do. "No way, Ken!" she exploded. "Don't you think that it would be an impossible task? We're grabbing at straws here! "

Ken passed a weary hand over his eyes before stating, "Sora, we may be grabbing at straws, but there are too few straws for us to make it undecisive about this. And anyway," he added. "It takes a lot of effort for anyone to become even a close acquaintance to you—you won't be leaving the party with a new best friend." He looked at her speculatively. "Black, I think. Or maybe cream."

"What?" Sora asked waspishly.

"Your dress, Sora." Ken smiled faintly. "You can't attend in sweatpants."

Sora scowled sullenly. "I like sweatpants. They're more comfortable."

Mimi looked at Sora as well. "Black, definitely," she announced. "I know where to find the perfect dress." She grinned at Ken. "You don't have a bad eye, Ichijouji."

He shrugged. "It was either that or green—red and green can go together, I've noticed."

Mimi appeared to be skeptical. "Like Christmas, I suppose?"

Ken seemed slightly offended. "It works."

Sora then moaned, "Oh, God!" and buried her face into her arms.

************

Too lazy for the yes's and no's.

What? It's late. Things pick up later, but then I suppose you'd expect that, since a major event has been mentioned. I mean, it's not like I'm just going to go on and on about how mysterious Blue-eyes is being or how heavenly a donut tastes.

I'd like to, but that's not the point.

The point is that this story will eventually get off its rear and start walking in the next chapter.

Or not.

Can't be sure.


	5. In the Shopping Bag

************

I'm back.

That's all I can say, really. Other than: I'm glad to see that people actually read my stuff. It's nice to know. Kind of like a motivator.

************

"Aah…" 

Mimi stretched her arms out, reclining against the soft cushions of the booth. "Isn't all this relaxing?"

"Relaxing?" Sora repeated incredulously, feeling disbelief at the woman's statement. Her entire body ached from the shopping expedition. "I've had military exercises more relaxing than this!"

"That's because you've never stepped a foot into the mall," Mimi sniffed.

"And if I have my way," Sora declared vehemently, "I never will again!"

They were shopping the local super mall on a beautiful November day which Sora could think of several million other ways to enjoy. She couldn't believe how hardy her side of the human race was, to continually return to this place cramped with people, food and clothes and come home triumphant and eager to come back. She was a detective who had run through countless martial drills, practiced a myriad of training routines daily and even did yoga in her spare time. She was Sora Takenouchi, detective agent of notable reputation, scourge of Odaiba's notorious underbelly.

And she was completely wrung out from being jostled by avid pre-Christmas shoppers and exhausted by countless visits to various fitting rooms located all over the building.

_'It's for the job_,' Sora had reminded herself repeatedly during the more stressful parts of the shopping trip. It had become almost a mantra as she silently chanted it over and over again, attempting to rein in her temper.

She had never known that shopping could be so exhausting. All her previous trips to the mall had been simple: go in, buy a new pair of jeans and a few shirts, socks and maybe a new pair of rubber shoes if her old ones were already worn out, then go home. Simple as that.

However, evening gown shopping, it appeared, was more complicated than that. 

When Mimi and Kari had been the ones to choose the dresses and wear them, they demanded her opinion and got irritated when Sora's obvious lack of fashion knowledge shone through. Somehow, all of her comments went out wrong and leaned in the ignorant direction.

The other part of the afternoon had consisted of Mimi and Kari thrusting dresses to her, making her try them out and stand for what seemed like hours in front of them, and then promptly telling her to find another one, criticizing her bad taste when they had in fact been the ones to pick it out for her. 

Sora _really_ hated shopping.

So far, the whole day had been a waste. Mimi and Kari hadn't been able to find anything suitable for themselves and for Sora, since Sora couldn't be trusted to know the difference between one dress and another, her answer relying heavily on color only.

Mimi sighed again, remorse in her tone this time. "Sora, Sora, Sora. You can't see the beauty of all of this. That's why you're so surly."

Sora arched her eyebrow. "Maybe my surliness stems from the fact that you've been dragging me around the mall from store to store to find something that clearly does not exist?"

"It's not our fault," Kari declared. "No store in this mall has any decent gowns appropriate for Tsukichi's gala!"

"Some were nice," Sora shot back irritably. "Like that blue one you picked out in the last store we've been to."

"That one?" Mimi looked scandalized. "You think it looked nice?" She laughed. "Sora, I've met tree stumps with better fashion sense than you. I didn't believe you when you said that you rarely went here, but I'm beginning to think that you were right."

"Fashion sense is not one of the priorities in my line of work," Sora replied testily. "Besides, I have better things to do with my time, things more important than swapping fashion tips with a decapitated tree."

Mimi laughed, completely unfazed. "Of course. Like beating the stuffing out of a punching bag."

"Or polishing your gun to the point where it actually turns white," Kari added.

"That's the luster," Sora answered lamely, feeling ganged up on. "You've gone too far, Kamiya."

Kari winced and apologized. "I forgot. Rule number one with Sora: never say anything criticizing or censuring of Sora's gun, car, or parakeet." Her face was completely straight.

Sora's eye twitched. "You're mocking me, aren't you?"

Kari shrugged nonchalantly. "It's true, isn't it? You'd flay and quarter the poor fool who'd make the mistake of insulting your gun before the unfortunate takes another breath." She blinked. "What's odd is that you think your gun would be insulted."

Sora muttered an oath under her breath and crossly skewered her food, thrusting the fork into her mouth and chewing irritably.

"Oh, don't say that, Sora," Mimi grinned, digging into her own food. "It's not something you say in polite society."

"Exactly," Sora said pointedly. "_Polite society. Any of that around?" she waved her fork. "No."_

Mimi and Kari looked slightly offended.

After they finished their meal, the two women set out once again to find their dream dresses (with the agency's funding, they had quite a lot of money to spend), lugging the sullen detective along behind them. They found their way into a large store when a dress suddenly caught Mimi's attention, and another, thus subjecting the others once again to another round of posing and waiting.

Sora sighed heavily as she wandered aimlessly through racks of gowns, not really looking. Mimi and Kari were arguing over the dresses—something rather pointless, since Sora really couldn't see the difference between the two dresses.

But of course, that was because she was profoundly untrained in the so-called 'art' of fashion wrangling.

Sora suddenly realized, after ambling along down aisle after aisle for some time, that the store was quite a lot bigger than she had thought, as she didn't know where she was going. Looking around, she discovered that she had lost sight of her friends and had meandered into the darker and empty area of the store, which she didn't realize was there in the first place upon entering the store.

She stopped and glared at her surroundings.

Terrific. Now she was lost.

She turned around to see where she had walked down and couldn't remember where she had gone—was it the left or the right? A strange depression settled around her: she had gotten herself lost in a clothes store. She, the famed detective who had brought down the Fujimiya drug ring. 

And it wasn't even a gun store.

Sighing again, she turned back, glancing to her left, and stopped dead. A thought raced through her head:

_That wasn't there before._

A strange plaster mannequin stood on a platform before her. But that wasn't what held her attention. Sora may not have known much about clothing and fashion, but the gown worn by the mannequin certainly made her think twice.

And it took a really remarkable dress nudge her interest, as she virtually had none prior to seeing this dress.

"It'd be perfect on you, you know."

Sora stiffened and whirled around immediately. She relaxed (a fraction), though, when she saw him. "Not you again."

Indeed, although Sora denied it, it was him again. The man with the pale blue eyes and the porcelain skin stood smiling lazily at her, leaning against a rack of gowns made ugly when compared to what she had in front of her. A dark brown overcoat was slung over his black turtleneck and his slacks, and an insufferably smug smile graced his elegant face.

With some surprise, Sora realized that she could see the color of his hair this time. The mysterious man was a blonde! And not just any blonde, since his fair hair was beautiful in color, an attractive shade of gold.

"Hey," Sora couldn't help saying in surprise. "You're blonde." Hastily, she added, "Figures."

"Only in the hair color, my dear spitfire," he drawled easily, laughing. "Your potential for examination never fail to enlighten me."

Oh. Right. 

Sora forgot that he was the annoying thorn in her side. The shock of seeing the true color of his hair had unbalanced her momentarily, but thanks to that remark of his, Sora was now fully content and even enthusiastic to continue finding him insufferable in peace again.

As a testament to that, she growled irritably and snapped, "Just what is it that you want from me?"

He laughed and moved closer, smiling easily. "What makes you think that there's something you have that I want?"

Sora refused to step back as he neared her, bravely holding up her front. "Well," she replied sarcastically. "It kind of has something to do with the fact that you keep following me around." She glared at him.

He stopped in front of her, towering slightly above her head—he was half a head taller than she was, and Sora was a tall lady. He seemed to mull that over a bit in his mind. "Hmm," he mused. "That sort of _does_ give a stalker sort of impression, doesn't it?" He looked thoughtful.

"Yeah," Sora sniped acerbically. "Sort of."

There was more bite to her voice than she had intended; his close proximity to her person was doing strange things to her, disconcerting her for a bit. He really was too attractive. His pale skins, now that she saw him up close, was smooth and unlined but for a barely visible scar on his high cheekbone, and his eyes were entrancingly blue.

Realizing that she was staring, she hurriedly continued, berating herself inwardly. "So what do you want?"

His eyes crinkled slightly with silent mirth. "You seem to be angry, Sora," he observed neutrally. "Have I done anything to offend you?"

Once again, he had chosen to ignore her question. Sora's ire rose, and she knew he knew this. 

"There is nothing you _haven't done," she growled and unenthusiastically decided to rein in her temper before she could strangle him. "If you won't tell me why you always pop up and bother me, could you just leave me alone? There are enough problems in my life."_

His lips curled up into a devastating grin and he bowed outrageously "Madam, although it grieves me to the core to be regarded by your esteemed honor as a nuisance, necessity requires this incessant badgering."

"Go away," she groaned.

He laughed, straightening lankily. "All in due time, Sora," he chuckled. "All in due time."

The man didn't seem to offer any more words and remained silent, simply watching her with twinkling eyes. Reasoning that he probably meant her no harm (at least, for now), she decided that it was safe to turn her back on him. The back of her mind lingered on the gorgeous dress on the pedestal. 

Besides, ignoring him would be fun.

Now that it was settled, she turned and stepped closer to the mannequin, noting that this alone was lit by an overhanging spotlight. 

She scrutinized the dress, searching for any flaws that were visible to her untrained eye and found none. It was perfect and beautiful. For some reason, she immediately knew that it would fit her admirably. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that she actually wanted it.

"You ought to get it," came the man's voice over her shoulder. "It'd be splendid on you." There were faint undertones of travesty in his voice and Sora turned on her heel and faced him squarely, bristling.

"Do you mind?" she asked in a frosty tone.

He was grinning mockingly at her. "I'm being honest now, you know," he offered, leaning against the railing of the display. "It was made for you—you'd probably outshine all those snotty money-grubbers at Tsukichi's." His eyes were unreadable. "You'd be even more beautiful," he murmured, his hand reaching out slowly.

Sora put her hands on her hips, ignoring the blush spreading on her cheeks and stepping away from his hand. "Just a second," she started. "How do you know that I'm going to Tsukichi's gala?"

His lips quirked up and he withdrew his hand and informed her, "You just confirmed it, you know, so you don't really need to know how I do."  He approached her and leaned close, murmuring, "I wish you much luck, Sora." He placed something in her hands.

Sora's breath caught at his sudden and not entirely unwanted proximity. She stared at him, then realized what she was doing and furiously looked away, swearing sulfurously under her breath.

She felt a sharp gust of air blowing past her and looked up again, only to find that he wasn't there anymore.

He had vanished again!

Incensed and feeling disoriented, she realized that the lights weren't dim at all—rather blinding, actually. There was no hint of the place where she had just been in. In fact, looking around, she found that she was no less than three feet away from where Mimi and Kari stood.

Startled and more than slightly confused, she whirled around and swallowed. 

The mannequin wasn't there.

Feeling something soft and silky against her arms, she looked down and saw that she was cradling the dress the mannequin had been wearing. She looked at it suspiciously.

A flood of questions rushed through her mind, but before she could properly examine any of them, Kari pounced on her, exclaiming in a delighted voice, "Sora! Where'd you get this dress? It's gorgeous!"

Mimi, ears pricked up, was at her side in a flash, demanding to see the dress. Sora, who was still stunned by the prior events, merely held the dress up.

"It's perfect!" Mimi declared happily. "I'd die to wear a dress like that, but I don't have your coloring. You _have to get it!"_

Before Sora could even think on the matter, her two friends dragged her over to the cashier and whipped out the credit card Ken had ignorantly given them, slapping it triumphantly on the counter. Sora noticed with detached relief, that the two women had already chosen their dresses.

"Hold it, miss," the saleslady objected. "I'm sorry, but we don't own this dress."

Sora froze. "But I found it here!"

The lady shrugged. "It doesn't belong to us. I've handled all of the dresses in this store and this one, I've never seen before." She paused. "It is lovely, though, isn't it?" she said admiringly.

"Odd," Sora murmured, staring at it.

_That man…_

"You can have it, though," the lady spoke again. "Free of charge, since it doesn't belong to us."

"What?" Sora blinked. "But—"

Mimi interrupted quickly, "Thank you, miss. Could you have it wrapped up for us, though?"

As the woman turned to do so, Sora argued, "Is that right?"

Mimi shrugged. "You heard the woman—she's practically giving it to us, and that dress ought to be worth thousands. Honestly, Sora, you really _wouldn't_ know a bargain if it came up to you and peed on your Birkenstocks."

Kari remarked, "How…graphic."

"And I don't own Birkenstocks," Sora muttered.

"Mm-hmm…" Mimi murmured absently, eyeing Sora. "Hmm…"

Sora's guard slammed against the sky. Her hand twitched toward where her gun would normally be—unfortunately, Kari had persuaded her to leave it at home. "Stop that, Mimi. I don't like being looked at like a side of beef."

"Pearls," was Mimi's vague reply.

"What?"

Mimi elaborated, "You'd look like a goddess with pearls. And lip gloss—not lipstick. We must promote the natural look for you."

"Uh…Mimi? I don't…have lip gloss. Or lipstick." Sora dreaded the answer.

Mimi positively glowed. "We'll be buying that along with the pearls. Ladies, our shopping trip has just extended."

"Haven't we shopped enough?" Sora asked desperately.

Kari laughed gleefully. "Of course not—we have all of Ken's credit card to waste. When it's all zeroes, maybe then, we'll think of going home."

Sora's stomach grew cold. "There's a lot of money in there," she said miserably.

Mimi answered, looking cheerful, "Then we'd better get to work, eh? Now, we still need to think about bracelets. Or maybe gloves…"

As Mimi eagerly began to describe her plans for the helpless (and hapless) detective, Sora turned her eyes heavenward with one single question:

_Why me?_

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *                *              *              *

"I am NOT going anywhere looking like—!"

Sora's scream was suddenly cut off by sounds of a struggle coming from the bathroom where all the girls were cloistered in preparation for the gala.

Taichi was relieved not to be in there—many of the sounds seemed to be made in great pain.

"How long have they been at it?" he asked Izzy apprehensively, tugging at the collar of his tux.

"Approximately two hours and forty-seven minutes of tortured screaming," the redhead affirmed dryly. "Not counting that brief period of twenty-five minutes where it was quite silent."

"I'm guessing that Mimi and Kari resorted to chloroform at that point," Ken mused.

"Or maybe they sprayed her with perfume, so she passed out while they took their gas masks," Tai suggested brightly.

The other two looked at him with obvious exasperation.

"What?" Tai protested. "I've heard it happened before…somewhere…I think."

Izzy sighed. "How exactly did he get to be chief of *any* department?" he demanded of Ken.

Ken shrugged. "I must have inhaled too much of Odaiba traffic that day."

"Or maybe you were bribed with too many jelly-filled donuts," Izzy remarked.

Before Tai could attempt to defend his legibility, the door swung open and out stepped Mimi and his little sister, dragging behind them the abhorrently swearing Sora.

The three men blinked.

Kari wore a pretty yellow gown and a shawl in a creamy white shade. The gown fell to the floor in a burst of ruffles at the hem, and wispy lines were embroidered erratically over the dress. Her sleeves only capped her shoulders, leaving the rest of her arms bare. Kari's short hair was clipped back to show her pretty face and the lovely pair of gold suns dangling from her ears. A gold necklace linked a large gold drop to her throat.

"Well, all of you look nice," she said brightly, grinning at the suited men.

"What do you think?" Mimi twirled, displaying her backless gown. 

It was a floor-length gown with a fluid-looking material for the outer skirt, all in blending shades of light pink. Her brown hair was styled with a large rosebud to cascade down over one shoulder in a waterfall of auburn curls. The dress had billowy sleeves with tippets trailing from the cuffs and flowers stitched to the hem with matching rose earrings and a delicate chain necklace. Her smile was radiant.

Sora's, however, was not.

Which was to be expected.

The detective wore a light scowl, which marred her otherwise delightful features. Sora's was a dark black dress which fell smoothly over her slender body to the floor. She wore white elbow-length opera gloves and pearls adorned her neck elegantly. Her fiery red hair was set up in a careful twist at the back of her head, displaying her surprisingly graceful neck. Her ears were bare, since they were un-pierced. A sheer gray sash was tied around her narrow waist.

"Any remarks?" Sora glared at Tai, who seemed to be bottling up laughter.

"It would be moderately safe, Tai," Izzy informed him. "She doesn't seem to have her gun with her."

Sora smirked. "Don't be too sure."

Tai eyed her curiously. "I can't see where you'd be able to hide your gun in a dress like that," he said.

Mimi laughed. "I didn't either. Sora proved me wrong, though."

"So what do you think?" Kari asked, smiling at her brother winsomely.

Tai grinned. "You look lovely, dear sister." He frowned slightly. "I may have to bring a club…"

"Whatever for?"

"To beat away the over-enthusiastic young men who you'll meet…" He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe you should change—"

"Hold it!" Mimi declared. "Kari's wearing _that_ gown to the gala, and that's the end of it. Turn of your big brother mode, Tai. We can't have you massacre all the young men at Tsukichi's party."

"What about the old ones?" Tai asked, his frown deepening. "Because there are many old—"

"TAI!!"

"Enough of this," came Ken's thankful interruption. He was checking his watch. "We're going to be late. Why did you girls take so long?" he asked with a hint of asperity in his voice.

Kari threw Sora a disgusted look. "Sora wasn't able to…sit still."

"How did you manage to subdue her?" Izzy asked curiously.

Mimi sighed. "Chloroform didn't work—it appears that she somehow built up an immunity to it—so I had to use this deadly paralyzing perfume I reserve for unwanted attacks." She grinned suddenly. "It's a good substitute for mace."

Ken and Izzy gaped at her, then turned their bewildered gazes to a smugly smirking Tai.

Sora scowled. "Maybe I should have stayed knocked out. Oblivion certainly sounds more appealing that shuffling around in a room full of money-mad sharks in a dress." 

Ken shook his head, muttering, "I don't believe this." He looked at his watch again. "We're going to be late. Let's go."

************

That's all for now. In a hurry.


	6. Many Money Grubbers

************

Dear God! I'm alive!

************

After making their greetings to Hataro Tsukichi and wishing her well another long year of money grubbing—well, they didn't actually wish that, but Ken saw many of his associates implying it—Ken ordered them to circulate and gather information. It wouldn't be difficult for any of them—they were all well versed in the art of winnowing through the throng without arousing suspicion—even Tai could fish out some interesting bits on occasion. Mimi's skill was questionable, but she seemed capable and confident about it, so Ken decided not to raise any point of argument—

God knew how the Kamiyas loved arguments. He honestly believed that they would shrivel up and die (complaining all the way) if they lived a day without running into any sort of disagreements. They thrived on spats like flies on dung.

The truth, unfortunately. The absolute truth.

Ken walked through the throng, looking for a suitable victim. He decided, after listening to his stomach's complaints, to cater to both its and his needs by hunting for a victim around the buffet table. 

Even king pins had to eat.

He walked over to the buffet table, which, by the way, was a marvelous piece of art. There were dishes from all over the world, decorated heavily and probably only half as tasty as they looked. There were additionally sculptures of ice, bread and icing sprinkled around the long table and every dish was housed in plates that probably cost as much as Ken received per year.

And yet there were no plates.

There were delicate glass chopsticks and spoons and forks and knives and utensils Ken couldn't even put a name to—but there were no plates.

He stood there, looking blankly at the table as his stomach agonized over the food lying prostrate before him and heavily cursed the monster who cruelly 'forgot' to give the guests the means to eat this scrumptious banquet with. 

This, he decided, was one of the most effective ways of torture imaginable.

"You need a plate sir?" Ken looked up and saw a smiling young woman.

And stared.

She was almost as tall as he was, but she wore heels, so it was difficult to tell without a lot of staring. She had lovely eyes and a smooth heart-shaped face decorated with a broad smile. She was a waiter, waitress rather, judging from her outfit—which was worn by several others along the banquet—and her question.

But that was not the reason why he suddenly forgot the wide vocabulary he had accumulated from many years of law study and whiny Japanese, English and Italian professors. 

She had purple hair.

Purple hair?? He could understand blond hair, or maybe even red hair. Possibly green hair or red hair (Christmas theme firmly in mind)—but why of all things purple?

"Sir?" the woman repeated.

Ken hurriedly recovered himself and hoped to recover any last vestiges of dignity he may have had left for him by his staring bout. "Uh, yes, Miss. I'd like a plate, please."

She looked at him strangely.

He blinked. SNOOTY! Damn it! He was supposed to be snooty! No normal peon without his nose surgically operated on to stick high in the air would be caught dead hanging around a gala like this!

Hastily, he added, "A plate would be very much appreciated, Miss. Quite obviously, since I doubt it would be possible to actually eat anything the chef prepared without it. Obviously." 

He was being redundant. Not a good sign.

The waitress looked at him for a moment. "It's the hair isn't it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You have it," she laughed, handing him a plate. "You don't look like the type we get around here."

Ken grimaced. He _knew_ he should have practiced the snooty look more. Only Koushiro and Sora were actually any good at it. But then, he never had to deal with anyone with purple hair, right?

He replied wryly, "I'm here not entirely by choice. I've never really been into parties."

He found, as well, that he could not lie to her either. Did purple hair dye have some anti-dishonesty chemical that affected everyone? This was not looking good.

"Neither," she replied. Ken looked at her uniform doubtfully.

She blushed and laughed, "I've never been into parties as a guest, but I go to them as a waitress. You get all kinds of types around here."

Ken immediately focused all his attention on that last phrase. Maybe he wouldn't have to go around fishing for information after all. She seemed chatty enough for him.

"Oh?" he asked nonchalantly. "What do you mean by that, miss...?"

The woman smiled cheerfully. "Call me Yolei."

Ken nodded, smiling slightly. There was no need for his alias here. "Ken."

Yolei smiled again. "Nice t'meet you, Ken. As I was saying, there are all sorts of people who come around to rich parties. There are many people here who I've gotten to recognize, since they frequent parties like this. They're all sorts."

Ken replied, "Like whom?"

Yolei seemed a little puzzled, but she shrugged it off. "Well, there's that fellow over there, by the pillar with that girl."

Ken turned unobtrusively and saw the man she was looking at. He was a tall lanky blonde in a tuxedo—natural blonde, by the looks of it. He wasn't a pure Japanese. He couldn't identify the girl he was talking to—her back was to them—but she seemed familiar.

Yolei went on. "His name is Takeru Takaishi. There are rumors going about that he was cheated out of his inheritance or something. But he's still whipper."

"Cheated?" Ken asked idly, deciding to ask her about that instead of that curious last word—'whipper', was it? He began to fill his plate, giving in to the rally going on inside his belly. "By whom?"

Yolei nodded to another man. "That fellow—Yukio Oikawa. In the center."

The man she called Yukio Oikawa was in his late forties and surrounded by half a dozen other black suits. He was a pale fellow with a cadaverous face and sunken eyes. He seemed oily enough to run a big underground crime business. There was something about him that ranked of crookedness.

"Oikawa," Ken murmured.

Yolei went on, "He's a creepy fellow, but there's no evidence that he actually had done anything against the Takaishis. Good at cleaning up his messes, I suppose. Oh, and over there, do you see that man in the center of the room—white tux, blue tie?"

Ken nodded. "Yes." He observed as the seedy-looking fellow strolled around with a voluptuous woman on each arm. "Who is he?"

"A filthy rich old man by the name of Noru Suetake," she informed him. "I don't know how he got all his money, but five or so years ago, he just showed up dripping with priceless jewels and money spilling out of his fancy tailored sleeves."

"I see," Ken murmured.

Yolei had given him the very bits he needed. He felt thrilled. There were three suspects: Takeru Takaishi, Yukio Oikawa, and Noru Suetake. It was possible that Takaishi of Takaishi Inc., losing his inheritance, would use his still vast monetary resources to fund the activities of the Sayonara to further his wealth and possibly to get back at this Oikawa.

It was also possible that Oikawa, desiring the young man's wealth, used his own resources to sway the inheritance over to his side to continue running the operations of the gang. Yukio Oikawa was a major representative of power in the corporate world, and it would come off as no surprise to Ken if that power was gained illegally. There truly was something unnerving about the man's dead gaze.

And there was Noru Suetake. How had he gained his millions so abruptly? Possibly winning the lottery. Possibly stiking oil. Possibly through illegal operations with the Sayonara gang.

The fun would start now.

Ken smiled—

And got a plate of cream puffs thrust at his face. "Try this," Yolei wheedled. "It's good."

Ken was startled for a moment and then he laughed, taking the plate. "Of course. I had almost forgotten that you were a waitress. You are as well-informed as a gossipmonger without anything to do. Where _do_ you learn all this?"

The lavender-haired girl blushed, then grinned. "We gossipmongers know everything, didn't you know?"

He laughed again. "Of course."

She handed him another dish of appetizers—the only food rich people served in pointless galas such as this one. "Try this."

He grinned openly. Half his work was done. The targets were named—now all they needed to do was shoot them down, one at a time. 

"Thank you, Yolei."

She smiled back at him. "Don't mention it. Now, about these little kebobs..."

************

Where did everyone go?" Tai wondered out loud looking around in confusion. All the bright lights coming off the many chandeliers and glitzy gowns struck his eyes a little to well. He appeared to have lost his sister.

Izzy laughed. "You seem so lost without your donuts," he mused. "It's almost unnatural. I wonder, if by taking away something that one cannot figuratively live without—your donuts, for instance— would really cause this sort of disorientation."

"And what do you mean by that?" Tai asked in indignation.

"You cannot live without a box of bread rolls in your hand." Izzy grinned. "That simple."

"Hey, I can so!" Tai replied hotly.

"Can you?" Izzy challenged him. "Imagine it: life without donuts. Nothing to munch on. No sugary circles of sweetness, no delightful bread rolls of chocolate and jelly."

Tai actually looked pained. "Please, Izzy. Don't talk like that unless you plan on getting beaten up."

"I'm just saying that pastries have become an integral part of your life, and donuts even more so."

"Life without donuts is so...bland," Tai said almost plaintively. "So...empty."

"And thus I rest my case," Izzy concluded.

"I can live without donuts," Tai protested. "I just don't want to."

"Even if it causes you disorientation and an amazing lack of attention? How gracious of you and how lucky for your sister."

"What do you mean?"

Izzy shrugged nonchalantly, grinning inside. "It's just that you took absolutely no notice of the young man who just whisked your sister off to dance a few minutes ago." Izzy loved the horrified look on his friend's face. Grinning openly now, he continued, "Now, normally, had you your donuts in hand, the fellow would be incinerated or incapacitated—basically rendered incapable of taking your sister anywhere—and that is _if_ you were clutching your donuts to your breast and attentive to it.

"But as far as I can see," Izzy went on, enjoying the growing look of anger on Tai's face—it _was_ a fascinating shade of red. Kari was right, "unless the lad had more than the usual amount of hands and arms, he still remains unharmed and has yet to be disemboweled." He laughed again. "Fascinating," he observed again of Tai's color.

Tai, however, had stopped listening to Izzy. "Someone asked Kari to dance?" he exclaimed.

Izzy observed, "You say it like it's a bad thing."

"Where are they?" Tai's face resembled a nimbus cloud and Izzy sighed inwardly. Normally, Tai was fine to talk to—a little daft now and then, but he normally had a head on his shoulders—provided his little sister wasn't in harm's way.

Which was funny, if you thought about it. 

Tai batted no eyelash about the fact that his sister faced danger everyday in her job, yet if you mentioned it to him that she was seen talking to a member of the opposite sex he did not know...

Well, good bye to coherency, hello ramblings of brotherly rage and wrath.

Seeing that Tai seemed ready to crush the marble banister in his hand, Izzy remarked, "You should lighten up a bit more, Tai. Kari's an intelligent girl and that fellow looks the image of a perfect gentleman."

Tai looked absolutely murderous. "Those are the worst types," he seethed.

"Of course," Izzy agreed. "Gentlemen aren't to be trusted. Right. Hey, look over there. By the buffet table. It's Ken." He paused. "Talking to a girl. With purple hair. Bet that confused him for a while. I wonder why he's talking to her, though. She seems to be a waitress."

He watched them, ignoring Tai's hyperactive ranting. Izzy blinked as he watched the waitress point out several people to Ken. "He seems to be doing his job already. Not loafing around like us—the man's the spitting image of that Holmes fellow." He laughed. "I bet he already has a list of suspects in mind."

Tai appeared to have finally put a lit on his murderous pacing. "They're only dancing," he was muttering to himself.

Izzy sighed. "Talking to myself again, I see. Well, I don't blame you, I guess. If I had a sister who was asked to dance by the very image of a gentleman, steam would probably start shooting out my ears, too." He laughed. "Thing is, I don't have a sister."

"Is that you, Koushiro?" someone suddenly asked in a voice far too loud to be of Izzy's liking.

Izzy clenched his fist then slowly released it, putting on an easy smile as he turned around. "Good evening, Jyou," he greeted his old acquaintance with an urbane nod. Inside, though, he was raging. His cover was blown!

The elegant blue-haired man geld out a hand and Izzy shook it, noting the other two men at the Jyou's side. One was a tall man with sunglasses pulled over his auburn hair while the other was a much younger fellow with piercing green eyes and neat shiny black hair.

"What are you doing in a party like this, Kou?" Jyou Kido asked him.

Izzy smiled briefly. ""Is it really that unlikely that I'd come out from behind my computer to take a breathe of not-too-fresh Odaiba air?"

Jyou laughed. "Knowing you, Koushiro, it would be next to impossible, but not quite there yet."

The man with the unnecessary sunglasses spoke up. "Have we met?"

Izzy stuck out his had after shooting Tai a cautious look. "Koushiro Izumi. This is Taichi Kamiya."

There was no use hiding their identities from Jyou. The man was a devil with his unlimited resources and files. Jyou was the owner of a medical insurance company that had spread all across Odaiba and to other places as well. This man knew half the people in Odaiba by name, face, occupation and income and many other ways Izzy didn't care to understand. 

Although Izzy doubted that the man would head Sayonara, he didn't put the notion entirely out of his mind. If Jyou _did_ run the crime circle, it would explain many things. Jyou's business had developed to become one of the most efficient intelligence agencies Izzy could name.

The auburn-haired man smiled. "A pleasure. I'm Daisuke Motomiya."

The other fellow nodded. "Iori Hida." He paused. "Is your friend all right?" He watched as Tai visibly attempted to hold in his rage. Checking quickly on Kari, Izzy saw that they had stopped dancing and were instead talking to each other by one of the tall pillars.

"Taichi? Oh, yes, he's all right. Don't worry about him." Izzy waved it off as he searched his memory of the station files. Daisuke Motomiya had to be with the Motomiya branch that dealt with foreign interaction, but he had no idea which category Iori Hida fell into. And there was absolutely no way in _Hell_ that he'd ask.

In a way, he and Jyou Kido were rivals—both had at their fingertips excellent systems of gathering intelligence, and while Jyou had unlimited resources at his advantage, Izzy's personal computer software and his civil authority enabled him just as much. They were evenly matched.

Izzy's mind worked quickly. It would be easy to find Iori Hida in the citizen files. But Daisuke Motomiya could be a possible ring leader or a convert. He would be very useful to the circle, either way, and it would explain a lot. In several gang holes, products from halfway around the world were uncovered in the crates hidden around the warehouses.

He just needed a little time to research.

But with Jyou in the picture, things became a little more complicated. The man was in the perfect position to do Izzy's mission a lot of damage. If Jyou decided to let his friends know who Izzy was, Izzy'd be very much crippled in that area.

Fortunately, though, it hadn't appeared to occur to Jyou yet, for Izzy's strategic leg remained unbroken in that area. But he'd have to be very careful. Jyou was nearly as intelligent as Izzy, and sometimes more clear minded.

"Don't worry about him," Izzy repeated. "It's just nerves."

************

Don't you absolutely love Izzy?

Yes, I'm sorry that it's been so long since I've uploaded.                                    No, I haven't dropped the story yet.

Yes, this is an important chapter.                                                                                No, the story isn't even close to finishing yet.

Yes, you will review.                                                                                                         No, you WILL review.


	7. Like a Treasure Forgotten

Kari smiled at him. "All right, why not?"

The man who introduced himself to her as Takeru Takaishi bowed over her hand with a brief smile and led her to the center of the room, where men and women danced together with oftentimes graceful steps, although that isn't to say that there weren't some who stumbled on their feet, being led about on a dance unfamiliar to their bodies.

"So what is your name?" he asked her with a smooth smile and a graceful sidestep

"I'm Kari," she answered, smiling impishly at the young man and observing with an eye of professional scrutiny. He didn't look much older than she did, with his youthful blue eyes and pale blonde hair. And unlike her other less updated colleagues, she kept an ear open to the social news of the upper crust. She had heard of this Takeru Takaishi, who was supposedly kept from some awesome inheritance by a Yukio Oikawa. Perfect suspect material.

She smiled again. "Nice to meet you."

He sent her an admittedly breathtaking smile. "It's my pleasure. You don't usually meet people my age at these kind of functions, and when you do, they're usually 'eligible' daughters, perfect for marrying, or so their mothers tell me." He threw her a mischievous look. "You aren't one of them, are you?"

Kari laughed. "Hardly."

"Hardly a daughter?" Takaishi gave her an appreciative stare but she refused to blush. "Or hardly eligible?"

She smirked. "Hardly able to answer that."

He spun her gently. "So who are you then?" His tone was easy and light but his blue eyes were serious.

Kari felt the usual stirrings of panic that crawled into her belly whenever she was undercover; she couldn't tell him that she was a cop who was currently incognito—obviously.

Takaishi noticed her uncomfortable look and smiled reassuringly. "You don't need to answer me, Kari." His eyes seemed slightly different—colder and much more distant than they had been a moment ago. As if a wall had slammed down around him.

She realized that he was still speaking. "...so just tell me that you aren't one of those young and hapless hopefuls and I'll let it pass."

Kari forced a laugh. "Oh no! It's perfectly all right to ask." She needed to break down that wall—to earn his relative trust again. She assumed a haughty expression. "I was not, in any way, forced to catch your attention and make you ask me to dance by my overbearing mother, nor am I one of your social equals, for that matter."

"So what are you then?" His eyes warmed with silent laughter.

She shrugged as he twirled her. When she faced him again, she replied, "I'm a reporter."

Takaishi seemed to think that over for a minute, then shrugged. "Better a nosy journalist than a spineless mercenary. You wouldn't believe how many times I had to pry some simpering pansy off my arm just because she'd believe that every word that came out of my mouth was a promise of my eternal and everlasting love and affection." He rolled his eyes, making a face. "You'd think that I would agree to live that long to keep that promise—I'd sooner fall on a sword."

"You're rich," Kari pointed out. "You're powerful. Don't you ever get away to do whatever you want to do?"

His eyes became distant, as though he was thinking of something far, far away. "Sometimes…sometimes, when I can free myself from the shackles of responsibility. Yes, I get away every now and then," he looked at her, the distant look in his eyes replaced by one of curiosity. "How did you know?"

Well wasn't that interesting?

Kari laughed and noted with some unusual amount of satisfaction that his eyes were now warm an open, though still a bit guarded. But that was to be expected. Everyone looked like that whenever she posed as a reporter.

"I promise," she said grandiosely, stepping back with the dance, "that I will take nothing you say at face value. I'm certain that my faint and love-struck heart could not bear the betrayal."

He shook his head with mock regret. "Where were you when I was besieged by all those lily-handed sniveling fluffs?"

Takeru held her hand a bit longer than was required of the dance and looked at her straight in the eye. She was, as what usually happened in half-starved love stories and windy poems, caught in his gaze and found herself staring back.

He had the most amazing blue eyes. They were sort of a pale shade of azure blue with hidden depths.

Kari suddenly realized that she was getting too close to the man—literally and figuratively. Why was she being so free with her words? She was undercover! This little flirtation was nice and all but hardly acceptable and pitifully unprofessional.

And if she was planning to win the next succession of verbal spats with her brother, she was _going_ to be professional.

Kari broke the gaze with a flamboyant spin. When she returned to his arms, she replied tartly, "Probably scraping the remains of an instant-noodle dinner."

Takaishi frowned slightly. "…Instant-noodle?" he echoed, the confusion written in his lovely, lovely eyes.

Kari shrugged, stepping around him. "I can't afford banquets of steaks and honey," she replied lightly. "Lowly reporter equals lowly salary, obviously." Still seeing the puzzlement in his eyes, it dawned on her. "You don't know what instant-noodles are, do you? No way!" she laughed delightedly.

Takaishi shrugged, looking away. He was obviously offended, but at least that wall of his hadn't come down on her toes.

Kari was still chuckling to herself. "That's a little too rich, I'd say, if you'd never tasted the delight of a cup of steamy noodles."

"Then why don't you show me, one day?" he suddenly asked, his face losing all traces of stiff indignation. "I'm certain that it would be _very_ educational." He flashed her another smile.

Refusing to be drawn in, Kari smiled back. "Reporters have horridly busy schedules, don't you know? Deadlines to target and such."

"I'm sure you'll make time for me," he answered confidently. "How often is it that you get to teach an ignorant about instant-noodles. I know I'll be very receptive." His smile was deceptively innocent, but Kari had a feeling that he was saying something else.

"Highly doubtful," she sniffed and twirled.

Inside, she was fuming. Why couldn't he have been old and gray and absolutely boring? Kari was keenly aware of the unfairness of it all. '_Because if he was old and decrepit, I wouldn't have to lose my breath each and every single time I looked at him_.'

Because she realized that…well, she did.

Kazuki Oikawa was a charming young man to many of Hataro Tsukichi's party guests, partly because he didn't share the dead-eyed gaze and forbidding nature of his uncle, Yukio Oikawa. He was a charismatic man with dark, intelligent eyes and a smooth, urbane manner.

In other words, he was definitely more entertaining conversation in comparison to all the other people Sora had previously spoken with.

_Not to mention a hell of a lot more attractive,_ whispered that most irritating whine in the back of her mind.

But Sora wasn't going to kill herself in an effort to be charming just to be able to gawk at her handsome companion. Particularly because he, or rather his uncle, Yukio Oikawa, was one of the potential ringleaders of the Sayonara gang.

Sora and her suspect were standing at the champagne fountain, each holding a flute of the red stuff yet not actually drinking any of it. Early in the conversation, each had discovered that they other shared his or her deeply rooted dislike of wine and alcoholic beverages—Sora because it befuddled her senses (which she liked to keep perfectly intact), and Kazuki because he absolutely hated the following hangover.

Kazuki Oikawa was interesting to talk to. His dry, scrutinizing outlook was very much similar to Sora's, and they found that they shared many generalizations about the people loafing around at the party. If he was rather guarded on some topics (which Sora carefully took note of), he more than made up for it by telling her all sorts of stories about this high-brow society and the fleas that preyed upon its flesh.

Which Sora found absolutely fascinating. Informative, too.

And while Sora was on guard with him as well, she was not so willing to be as edifying as he was. She kept firmly in mind that it was entirely possible that he had given the order for the kidnapping of Toki Hidenaki.

That smooth, friendly personality of his might just be a veneer to hide something not open for the viewing of the general public.

"Is anything the matter, Mirayama?" Kazuki's voice penetrated her dark thoughts. His usage of the pseudonym she had given him brought her back to reality.

She looked at him and smiled. "Nothing at all, Kazuki," she told him. "Just thinking."

He set down his glass and gave her an encouraging look. She glared at him, and Kazuki grinned. "Go on, Mirayama. I'm all ears."

She scowled and resisted the urge to shatter the glass she was holding. "You're daft if you think you can get anything out of me," she informed him not-too-politely.

"It's about me, isn't it?" he asked, grinning wickedly. His eyes seemed to glow brighter. "I know it is."

She shoved him, laughing a little. "Don't you know that if it was, I wouldn't be able to stand here so quietly?"

Kazuki leaned closer. "Oh?" His voice was seductive.

Sora gave him an ironic look. "Yeah," she answered, her voice slightly acerbic. "I'd be on the floor, laughing my spleen to pieces."

An expression of mock injury came over his face and he put his hands to his heart, as though he had been wounded. "Although I must say that I certainly admire your…creative hold of the language, I am honestly hurt, Mira."

Sora's face was smug. "Then I have done my job well," she bantered.

He was too down-to-earth, honestly. You wouldn't think that he was really sitting on all that wealth. He was warm, he was open—so unlike that blonde man…

And, inevitably, her thoughts turned to her blue-eyed informant. Her mind conjured up images of him, smiling mysteriously at her, his blue eyes standing out like a star in the clear night sky.

She wondered why she kept thinking about him while she was talking to Kazuki. The two were polar opposites. But wait…

Yes, they were completely different—Kazuki was charming and gallant, while the stranger was…well, not. Yet there something in their starkly contrasting personalities that burned true in the same ways. Something…

"So, Mira," Kazuki turned his eyes on her. "Would you like to—"

"Mr. Oikawa!" A woman in a dress like a business suit was striding towards them, looking very official. "I've been looking all over for you. I need to talk to you about—" She suddenly caught sight of Sora and seemed to catch herself as well. "—stocks," she completed hastily.

The scrutinizing look she gave Sora didn't sit too well with her, and Sora gave her an equally piercing stare in retaliation. Nobody could weather her clear scarlet eyes for long, though, so the woman gave up and turned to Kazuki, who had been watching the exchange with some amusement.

"Akami, meet Sarah Mirayama," he introduced them, his eyes sparkling. "Mirayama is partly Irish, which would explain the red hair and disposition. Mirayama, this is Akami Murosugi, one of my business associates."

"Charmed," Murosugi said flatly, obviously meaning nothing of it.

"Likewise," Sora responded politely, although her eyes were mocking.

"Mr. Oikawa, there are some matters that need to be brought to your attention," Akami then said, pointedly turning her back on Sora.

"All right, all right," he held out his arm to her and looked at Sora. "Well, I'll see you around, then."

She replied, "It wouldn't be entirely unwelcome."

Curiously, he swept up his wine glass. "She likes the stuff," he muttered to Sora. "I guess I'll have to wake up screaming again."

Sora smirked and gave him a crisp salute with her drink. When he and Akami Murosugi vanished into the crowd, she let the smirk fade and she turned to the fountain to evaluate what she had learned.

Could Kazuki really be privy to the Sayonara gang? He seemed too flighty to be a part of the underground organization. He could just be some society punk, but his ties to the disreputable Yukio Oikawa were too prominent to ignore. Miss Murosugi's little interruption had also prodded her curiosity. Akami Murosugi clearly didn't intend to talk to Kazuki about stocks. Seeing Sora, she had quickly changed her tactics.

It was more or less confusing.

She sighed, shutting her eyes.

A slightly mocking voice suddenly spoke behind her ear. "Watching Oikawa walk away with another woman isn't _that_ depressing, is it, Mirayama?"

Sora's eyebrow twitched. She recognized the speaker immediately and scowled. "Why am I not surprised?"

As usual, the blonde man left her question choking on nothing but air and opted for another. "Would you like to dance with me?" he asked.

Sora opened her eyes and looked at him over her shoulder. "And if I said no?"

"Thank you, Sora," he murmured, meeting her gaze with his steady blue eyes. He took her hand in his gloved one and led her through the suddenly insubstantial crowd to the dance floor. Sora surprised herself—she did not resist. The crowd seemed to melt aside to give way to them, although they certainly did not appear to notice it.

And so they reached the dance floor.

Sora was no mean dancer—she knew all the steps and her body was well-trained. But for all of her knowledge of ballroom dancing, the steps he led her through were bafflingly different from any other dance she knew. She adjusted well, though. He was a smooth dancer, she wasn't surprised to note. He was dashing and straight from a storybook in a tuxedo.

Also not a surprise.

Sora looked around. The lights were still bright and the people dancing around them did not appear to fade away. "What, no mysterious shadows? No complete darkness?" she said archly.

His reply was rather detached. "You expecting any?"

She shrugged. She wasn't quite as furious with him as she was before, although it was still frustrating to have her questions turned aside. "I've come to associate you with all those things. They seem to be the norm with you."

He broke off the subject, telling her that she looked beautiful. His reply was no longer distant, and his eyes were glowing a pulsing blue as he looked at her.

Sora smirked slightly. "You're only complimenting your fashion sense, you know."

He laughed softly. "You may not know it, more likely that you ignore it, but you are remarkably beautiful, Sora. Beauty bows to you when you wear grimy dust-stained clothes just as it does when you are clothed in a dress of the night."

Sora _refused_ to blush. Those were nothing more than words. Yet inside, something inside her seemed to open up, like a flower to the sun that was his voice.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice harsh.

His smile was like a comet, blazing through the universe toward some indeterminable destination. "Isn't it obvious?"

Her hold on her blush escaped her, and she knew that she _had_ to change the subject. Immediately.

"You know Kazuki?" she asked, trying to avoid his gaze. She watched the other dancers, observing how their steps suddenly seemed so awkward in comparison to the dance he was teaching her.

Sora felt her partner's mood change, and she looked at him. A frown was marring the perfection that was his face. "You know, you should be careful who you talk to. There are many things people would do to keep their secrets."

Sora narrowed her eyes. He knew something. "What are you talking about?"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Do you expect an answer?"

She visibly deflated, and she glared at him. "Not anymore."

He watched her, his eyes compelling and unreadable. "If it's any consolation, I'm sorry."

"Well, if you're so apologetic about all this crap, then why don't you just give me a straight answer, for once?" she snapped irritably. "Even a 'yes' would be better than offering me an apology."

He allowed himself a smile. "I'm afraid I have been the cause of much of your unrest lately, Sora. I dislike doing things this way, as entertaining as it tends to be, but it's out of my hands. Fate has a way of taking the rein."

Sora didn't really know what to make of that, so she made a face. "Well, whatever you're talking about, you have my condolences. I hate it when I don't get my way."

He laughed. "I doubt that it is much of a problem for you. You just seem to force your way through."

Sora glared at him and deliberately stepped on his foot, reveling in the brief look of pain that flashed through his eyes. "Tell me, did you crash this party just to call me a bully?"

His only reply was: "I didn't crash this party."

The music began to tone down and he led her to the side, to Sora's relief. She wasn't certain that she could last another song. Dancing was a lot harder than it looked—particularly when you were with a more experienced partner.

"You were invited?" Sora pried. "You don't really seem like the party sort to me."

He smiled wryly. "Neither do you, it appears."

Sora stopped shaking her throbbing ankles—she absolutely _hated _wearing heels! She gave him the evil eye. "Yes?" she asked belligerently.

He smiled again. His eyes seemed to lose their focus. "I wish things between us could be as they were so long ago," he murmured. He reached out to touch a gloved finger to her chin.

Sora suddenly began to tremble, as though something inside her had begun to wake, tired and raw with fatigue. "Wh-what are you talking about?"  Her voice was made harsh by her confusion.

His gaze was on her, yet he did not seem to be looking at her. "Do you remember Yamato?" His voice was strangely wistful.

The name had an enormous impact on her. For a moment, Sora seemed to fly through time, yet she still saw the glorious ballroom glowing around her. She seemed to see herself over and over again, and she saw him, standing alone in the middle of a world of darkness, watching her as she seemed to flow from one girl to another.

_Yamato_. The name was new to her, although it seemed like a treasure forgotten through time found covered with dust. It was new, but at the same time, it had belonged to her, and she had misplaced it.

A million thoughts whirled through her head, and she realized that she was leaning on his arm. He was watching her quietly, his eyes compassionate.

"I should go now," he sighed. "This one has broken too many rules for one night. An admirable record, but if I break all of them now, there'll be nothing to do tomorrow." There was a faint smile of triumph on his lips.

Sora said nothing, staring at him intently. She let go of him reluctantly, taking a step back. Her eyes couldn't leave him until she wrenched them away.

"Goodbye, my Sora." His voice was hardly louder than a whisper. "Remember what I told you tonight." Taking her gloved hand in his, he gently kissed her fingers. It seemed to return to her senses the ability to react.

But by the time she was back to herself, he was gone, leaving her feeling thoroughly flattened and without a sounding board to scream and rail at.

Sora just stood there for a moment, hating everything around her with intensity. There are no words in this world or the next (or even the first) that could possibly begin to describe the feelings that whirled through everything that made her herself. Every syllable pales in significance.

Finally getting tired of all this feeling, Sora swiped the first flute of champagne she saw (from the tray of a passing waitress) and emptied it in a single gulp. As it was stated earlier, she found the taste offensive and proceeded to spit it all out in a spray one would respect if one wasn't in the way.

Ignoring the offended looks of the shocked people around her, she flung herself into an empty seat, cradling her head. "I don't need this right now. I really don't."

'_But you know you're going to get it anyway, don't you?_ ´ that mocking voice laughed in her head.

Deciding that she preferred an alcoholic stupor to the incessant nagging of her inner voice, she snagged another glass of champagne, pointedly ignoring the sudden universal movement of retreat from all the people around her.

'_You're just going to get sick later,_' her inner voice scolded. _'Then you'll begin singing, and you've never sung a pure note in your life. Do all these people really deserve such a fate?_'

She swallowed the glass and reached for another. The voice was getting fainter. Three more flutes, and maybe it would disappear completely!

Sora was already feeling much happier.

Yes, I'm alive.                                                                     No, I'm feeling cadaverous.

Yes, I probably owe everyone an apology.              No, I'll just wait until I stop doing it.

Yes, I really need to go to the bathroom.                 No, you don't want to know anything more about _that_.


End file.
